Stuff
by Gheorghe2
Summary: Luke's in a funk and Mara needs a co-pilot for a trading mission with a search for a missing Republic agent on the side. What could go wrong? Chapter 10, the conclusion, Up On The Roof, in which Luke and Mara finally close the deal and talk about ships.
1. Chapter 1  Uninvited Guests, Part 1

**STUFF  
**

STUFF was written in late 1995 and early 1996 after the release of DARKSABER and the CORELLIAN TRILOGY. I pulled the story from the web in 1997. It returned to the Club Jade website in 2001 and has been there ever since. The webmistress to CJ, Dunc, has cleaned STUFF up a few times over the years and has graciously hosted it for a very long time. It recently came to my attention that despite its, and its author's, advanced age, STUFF continues to circulate in the Star Wars fandom. With so many stories lost forever, disappearing when private archives go down, when Geocities disappeared, and in hard drive crashes, and corrupted floppy disks, I concede that should probably not happen to STUFF and so have decided to post it elsewhere.

The shame and then pride of authorship have been replaced with a sort of numb acceptance. As Luke would say, STUFF is wretched, melodramatic space trash, to which Mara would counter that we all need a little trash in our lives

**Obligatory disclosures**

With grateful acknowledgement to Lucasfilm, 20th Century Fox, and Timothy Zahn. I claim no ownership interest whatsoever in any content. Any original content in the story is entirely in the public domain and may be used without notice or attribution to me.

There are errors. This thing has been through numerous beta testing rounds with many readers. While it embarrasses me now, those imperfections are part of what made it what it is - though I think Rogue is now spelled properly. Its misspelling as Rouge led to an ongoing parody involving cross-dressing X-Wing pilots and Attack Pattern Clinique. There is wandering point of view. The characters and the story they inhabit are flawed.

At the time of its release, I thought STUFF was about PG-13 or even R. Now, I doubt it even merits that rating.

When I wrote it, the single greatest complaint was the amount of hard liquor Luke and Mara consumed. Luke gets drunk. So does Mara. If you are bothered by this fact, it's going to be a difficult read.

I also am now shocked to realize how long these individual chapters are. I will divide some of them up if they seem too long.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**  
**UNINVITED GUESTS, Part 1  
**_In which Mara has an uninvited guest, then Luke has an uninvited guest, and Luke and Mara play a drinking game_

* * *

Zipping along at hyper speed toward her unusual destination, the light blinking on her holo receiver was a surprise to Mara Jade. Such messages were rare, expensive, usually serious, and invariably important. Prepared for the worst, she was all the more surprised when the display identified the sender as from Coruscant Palace.

A visual of Han Solo flickered onto her screen. Momentarily stunned, she managed to blurt out a greeting. He looked like he had been dragged from bed by wild animals. A check at the chronometer and some quick calculations confirmed that her initial impression was not far off - it was indeed the dead of night at Coruscant Palace. All normal mortals were long since in bed; the wild animals she was not so sure of.

"Solo, what in the skies do you want?"

His mumbled answer was as coherent as his appearance suggested. "Uh, hi, Mara. Sorry to just barge in like this. How are you?"

"I'm fiiine," she drawled, trying to coax some logical explanation for a holo call from the Chief of State's husband in the middle of the Coruscant night. "What's wrong, Solo? What's got you calling me at this hour?"

More incoherent hems and hahs followed. He was obviously uncomfortable and probably regretting now that he had dialed her up. "Uh, well, I need to ask a favor."

Mara waited through yet another long pause. "Yeesss, so what's the favor?"

Evidently Solo resolved whatever momentary indecision had robbed him of comprehensible speech, for he stumbled on. "You probably haven't heard about Luke. Well, I mean about Callista. I mean, Lu..."

Mara made a quick decision and interrupted Solo, sparing him the ordeal of telling that tale. "I've heard the news, Solo," she curtly interjected.

He was instantly alert. "How did you..," but Mara interrupted him again.

Trying to keep the irritation out of her voice, she explained patiently, as to someone who has been too long out of the game to know how it is played, "Geez, I'm a trader. Of course I knew. I probably found out the same time you did." This was not quite true, but close enough for these purposes. "Besides, I keep pretty close tabs on your family members, given their penchant for getting into trouble."

Solo was quiet, no doubt digesting the implications of Mara Jade, the former Emperor's Hand, following the personal lives of his family generally and his brother-in-law in particular. But having gone this far, he plunged ahead. "Well, you may not know that Luke is taking it really badly. We haven't heard from him in weeks. Tionne called me up yesterday saying she was very worried. She wanted me and Leia to come to Yavin, but she can't 'cause she's off planet on some diplomatic thing."

"It's a trade show and negotiation on Chandrila."

Solo grinned at her, evidently savoring the humor in Mara Jade thinking she knew as much about his family as he did. "Yeah, Chandrila. Anyway, Leia can't go."

Mara could see where this "favor" was leading. "I don't see what this has to do with me. Why don't you go, take the kids to visit their Uncle - that might get his mind off things?"

Han gave her a long inscrutable stare, and then shrugged. "Because I have a feeling that seeing the kids, and maybe even me would just make him worse. I thought maybe you could go and see him instead."

Ahh. Mara leaned back, mulling his little confession. "I'm not exactly in the neighborhood, I've got a hold full of goods and I'm bound for Verrat."

"You do the Verrat run? Hold on a minute." She saw him turn away, rummage around on the desk and then pull out a data pad. He thumbed the pad and then looked up. "NRI reports some unusual activity there."

This was far too convenient. Of course Solo knew she did the Verrat run; he probably knew she was headed there when he called. Was this supposed to be a quid pro quo to pique her interest? On the other hand, any time New Republic Intelligence reported 'unusual activity,' it was certain to be entertaining, lucrative or simply dangerous. She took the bait he dangled. "All right, what does that mean?"

Solo looked exceedingly smug, even over a grainy transmission. "I dunno," he offered ever so helpfully, casually perusing the data pad. "It says here there may be some smuggling going on, although NRI doesn't know what."

"No? Really? Smuggling? I'm shocked. You have to do better than that to get me to change my plans and go to Yavin first."

He pretended to consult the pad again, as if this really were some last minute inspiration. "NRI says there's been a lot of credits changing hands, for unknown reasons." Mara pointedly stifled a yawn for his benefit. "Oh, this is interesting . . . " He paused again and looked at her.

She waited, and he finally continued. "NRI says that whatever they have for a government has been having some unidentified, mysterious problems with their aerial security defense net. Say, you wouldn't know anything about this now would you?"

She gritted her teeth. "No. Solo, I don't. I've done the run for years, and unless you've forgotten everything about trading you ever knew, which is highly likely in your present, cushy office job, you should recall that profits are very high there if you can get through the asteroid belt without being pulverized. "

He feigned a hurt expression, "Oh, Mara" and then swung back with a deadpan return. "Lots of ex-Imperials on Verrat aren't there?"

She had better things to do then engage in a holo match of wits with Han Solo. "Yes," she said wearily. _If your NRI agents are any good at all, they'll also tell you I lived there once too_. She continued aloud. "Plenty of current Imperials too, who pay top credit for luxury items they can't get in exile."

Solo was silent again, before pushing on. "So will you go and see Luke?" Then came the big sell, "Mara I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think it was important. Tionne was very concerned. Luke won't talk to any of us, won't see anyone, and he's not answering messages. Nothing. Leia can't reach him and she's frantic. Could you just check up on him, see how he's doing?" He took a deep breath. "I'd really owe you one."

A thought struck Mara. "You owe me or you and your wife owe me?"

"Well, I haven't told Leia yet."

Mara grinned at that one. "Hiding secrets from a Force-trained spouse is never a good idea Solo."

"Yeah, well I can handle that."

"I bet you can."

"Just swing by Yavin, Mara. Try to get Luke to go with you to Verrat. You can sell your cargo, the two of you can check out the NRI report, see if you can find their missing agent..."

"Say again?"

"Oh did I forget to mention that?" He looked oh so innocent. "NRI seems to have misplaced an agent on Verrat."

"How very careless of them." But Mara realized he had played her well. This was too interesting to pass up, which was no doubt what Solo had intended all along. All the innocent questioning; doing the Verrat run indeed, he probably knew her entire manifest, down to the last wine bottle.

"You'll go though, won't you Mara," he continued, somewhat more contritely. "And take Luke with you? Please."

Mara wondered whether in all the years she had known Han Solo, if she had ever heard him say "please." He could be quite charming, in an aw shucks sort of way. She still wasn't buying it, but ... "If you're going to be so nice about it . . ." She paused, considering. "Sure, I'll stop by. No promises though."

"Just give it a try. I'll transmit the entire NRI report, such as it is, to Yavin by diplomatic encrypt."

"Good idea. It's probably worthless, but more information on the situation there would help. I don't like trading blind. And, before I forget, tell Jaina thanks for the picture and the story. Her picture's hanging in my cockpit. But where did she get that particularly lurid color of red for my hair?"

His grin and relief were genuine this time. "I'm glad you like it Mara. I'll tell her. She worked really hard on it. Did you know that she wants to grow up to a Master Trader and fighter pilot just like Mara Jade?"

She laughed, thinking how much Mara Jade as a role model for her daughter might distress Jaina's mother. "Tell her to aim higher."

"She could do a lot worse."

Mara laughed again. "How's Jacen doing?"

Han affected a heavy sigh, but his delight in his children's foibles was palpable, even over a holo transmission. "Better. He only mentions your name three or four times a day now." After the Corellia insurrection, young Jacen Solo had developed an intense crush on Mara. If anyone saw a particular irony in the situation, they were too polite to comment.

"Give them both a hug from me Solo."

"I will. And thanks again, Mara."

As he turned to disconnect, Mara interrupted him. "One thing, Why me? What makes you think Luke'd see me if he's not seeing anybody else?"

Han stared at her again. She tried to read something in his sabacc straight face, but got nothing. He just shrugged. "I dunno, he may not, but my guess is you'll find a way. It's just a hunch."

"Hunch?"

"Yeah. Besides, if you think about it, there really isn't anyone else who could go except you." He sighed, and suddenly looked very tired.

"Go back to bed, Solo, before you change your mind. I'll see what I can do."

Han switched off, leaving Mara staring at the star lines from her cockpit's view screen. She glanced at the chron; she'd drop out of hyperspace in about an hour, right into orbit around Yavin IV. She had been planning to go there all along, but had decided not to mention that to Solo. It never hurt if the Chief of State's husband felt he owed you a big favor.

The more she considered their conversation, the more extraordinary his request seemed. He was genuinely worried about Luke, that was clear, and probably did not want Leia to worry about her brother. Mara knew Leia had her hands full with the Chandrila conference. But that Solo would call her, in the middle of the night, without Leia knowing, and try to convince her to go and see Luke, well that was something else entirely.

He had clearly been reluctant to do so. Calling at this hour meant that it was probably an impulse that Solo thought he might regret if he had slept on it. On the other hand, he had taken the trouble to learn both her destination and something to pique her interest, no doubt figuring that she might need a lure to get Luke off Yavin for a while.

His and Leia's persistent mistrust of her continued to grate. What did they expect? She had not actually killed Luke, or even really made a serious effort to do so. Sure, she had her own Imperial past to contend with, but, in the years since she had come to know them she had done a lot for them personally, and for the New Republic. She had rescued Luke from the jungles of Myrkr, had fought and nearly been killed in the Dreadnaught battle, led them to Thrawn's cloning facility, and almost been killed there too for her trouble. More recently, she'd been injured again, at Almania, had helped Leia escape from Corellia, and had fought with them in their subsequent air battle against the Triad. Solo probably couldn't decide if she would sit and hold Luke's hand or just stab him with a vibro knife.

Han and Leia's mistrust was comical in comparison to their own children's adoration of her. After Corellia, she had taken Jacen and Jaina on a few jaunts around the system in the Jade's Fire. She had let Jaina sit in the co-pilot's chair when they made the jump to hyperspace and it evidently made a big impression on the young girl. Jacen's schoolboy crush had subjected him to much ridicule by his twin, but he had persevered. Mara liked both Jacen and Jaina a lot, in part because of and in spite of their parents' misgivings.

She thought again about Han's call. His concern, no, that was not it, fear, for Luke had been so great, he had sought her out of all people. Why? Was there truly no one else to go to Luke?

Soberly, Mara realized that maybe there wasn't. Luke had become increasingly detached and emotionally distant in the wake of Callista's abrupt and to Mara's mind, callous, flight. Although she had forcefully argued the point with him many times, he felt responsible for Gaeriel Capistan's pointless death at Centerpoint. His isolation had deepened after the Corellian insurrection. He had withdrawn to Yavin to be with his students and had remained there, in seclusion, to wallow in guilt and depression. Mara had not seen him in months.

And now this. Although Mara had known about Callista and had, even, expected it, she had no intention of imparting that particular story to Han. It was, she thought, not his business, nor hers. Mara had not wanted to be involved in the subsequent fallout. Luke, however, had changed her planned aloofness. She had not expected to feel his jolt of pain half way across the galaxy and shuddered, remembering again that night almost three weeks ago.

It had happened at yet another retirement party for her old boss, Talon Karrde. She had suddenly been overwhelmed with grief, awash in waves of despair and rage. She had, incredibly, burst into tears, and fled the party, utterly desolate, spending the night inconsolable and alone, curled on her bunk in her ship. The next day, she had been able to pinpoint Luke, light years away, as the source of her anguish. It was several more days before she was able to regain her composure sufficiently to stammer an apology to Karrde.

The realization that she had been so attuned to Luke through the Force had shocked her. They had been on more or less good terms for years, building a firm friendship based on trust, respect, and some slight mutual attraction amid the seemingly endless political upheavals and military crises of the NR.

There had always been some indefinable connection between them, a linking through the Force that had made their collaborations so successful. Luke had once simply explained that they worked well together and she had never been able to divine a better explanation. But nevertheless highly suspicious of the situation, Mara had sometimes deliberately ignored him for months. She sensed that his own feelings for her were as complicated and ambivalent. Perhaps recognizing that their delicate equilibrium could rapidly careen in unpredictable and unsatisfactory directions, they had both studiously avoided looking at the situation too closely.

Yet somehow, despite all the obstacles, their relationship continued to deepen as forces, or as Mara now recognized, the Force continually propelled him into her orbit, and she into his. Her powers in the Force had grown since knowing him. When she was with Luke, he acted as a catalyst for her own strengths and tempered her weaknesses.

Mara's Force sensitivity had cost her dearly, enslaving her for years to the Emperor's voice. In a final act of spite, Palpatine had implanted a nightmarish vision of his death at the hands of Luke and Vader. She learned it had all been a lie, the dying Emperor's last vengeance on Vader and his son. With Luke's help, she had been able to exorcize that demon from her mind and soul.

The experience, though, had not been without its repercussions. Mara had not been anxious to repeat that mind to mind link with anyone ever again. She had shielded herself from such contact, unable to open her mind fully to him and others through the Force. And then she had felt Luke reach out across the stars that night. His anguish was as fresh in her mind as if she had been in the same room with him.

For the thousandth time she pondered what that cry had meant. Like the Emperor's death, had it been so strong that others sensitive to the Force had felt it as well? Or had he knowingly or unconsciously directed it to her specifically, a plea summoning her to Yavin? And if so, for what end?

As the days had gone by, she considered what to do, whether to approach him, what to say if she did. None of the answers she devised seemed satisfactory. His call had badly shaken her, and Mara was exceedingly uncomfortable with the thought that, by whatever whim of the Force, she was now more linked to Luke than she had ever wanted or intended to be. Her first instinct had been to ignore it, to run as far from that cry as she could, to block the searing pain and loneliness. Calling upon some of the same calming and shielding he had taught her, she was able to restore her more customary veneer of competence and control. But his dull, gnawing ache remained in her mind. It was then that Mara had realized that she could not in justice use those same techniques he had shown her to keep him away. So, on an impulse, she set off for Yavin.

Although Solo had not given her any particular information she had not already surmised, he had provided a new perspective on a matter that she had been fretting over for weeks. Mara reflected that sometimes Han was more sensitive then he let on. As difficult as it may have been to stay on Coruscant and not immediately go to Luke, he was probably right in concluding that his presence, or that of his family could do more harm than good. If Luke was already despondent, seeing his happily married sister and brother in law and their children would probably only draw him into further gloom. She wondered idly if the Force had prodded Solo as well.

For whatever reason, and by whatever means, Mara had been summoned to Yavin. And so to Yavin she would go.

The navicomputer beeped, announcing the imminent drop from hyperspace. Mara strapped in, prepared and ready as the seconds ticked down.

* * *

Mara felt it immediately, almost as soon as she dropped out of hyperspace, and into orbit around Yavin IV. There was a heaviness, a brooding anger that was new to Yavin. She also felt a brief touch on her mind, a momentary lingering that others not as attuned might have missed altogether. "Just ringing the doorbell" she said to the air.

She easily found the beacon and adjusted the Jade's Fire navigation to its frequency. The ship responded smoothly to her touch, and descended gently into the atmosphere toward the Jedi Training Center landing pad. Mara loved flying, she loved her ship, loved skimming just a little too close over the heavy jungles of Yavin, feeling the forces push her ever so slightly back into her chair. It was always a disappointment to land. The Jade's Fire touched down lightly, with the ease of much practice.

Standing at the hatch, she felt a sudden stab of doubt. It was terribly wrong for her to come here. Who was she to interfere with Luke's grief, even if his lack of control was invading her life as well? Why not just turn around and head back out? If Luke did not wish to see his own family, why would he see her, much less follow her on some wild hunt to a mostly Imperial held backwater like Verrat?

Surprised at this compulsion, Mara directed her attention inward, probing for the source of these unexpected feelings. She recognized something external, from without, that was prompting this self doubt. Something wanted her leave, something weak, malicious, petty. This abrupt identification of an insidious variation on the Dark Side was disquieting.

Mara paused. If the Dark Side was operating so strongly in the Jedi Training facility, she began to understand Tionne's concerns. She quickly brushed these fleeting misgivings aside; Mara had faced down the worst of the Dark Side a long time ago, and it would take more than niggardly doubts to rattle her self-confidence. Yanking the hatch release, she stepped out into the humid Yavin atmosphere.

It was deserted; none of the instructors, the Jedi or the students were about. She walked toward the Temple and living quarters, increasingly disturbed at the change in the facility. The place reeked of mold and decay. A vague, unpleasant odor hung in the air. Yavin teemed with life; touching that breathing, living richness was an important part of training here. Usually one could hear the squawks of exotic birds, and the calls of animals deep in the forest. Instead, it seemed silent, watchful, ominous. It was as if the very life of the forest was suspended, tense, waiting for a calamitous outburst or an electrical storm.

What had happened? She tested the air. The same hostility she had felt in orbit hung heavily, but seemed here, more intense and directed, more personal. Although the midmorning sun should have begun warming the air and burning off the early mists, a cold, clamminess permeated.

Becoming frustrated at the lack of any welcoming at all, Mara reached out through the Force and simultaneously heard and felt Tionne running down the path from the dormitories. Tionne rounded a corner and careened into Mara. "I'm so glad you came." To Mara's surprise and embarrassment, Tionne threw her harms around her, clinging to her Mara's shoulders. Tionne's face was red and wet from crying. "Did Han come? Where's Leia?" she gasped.

Mara gently disengaged from the grasp. She knew that Tionne was not very strong in the Force, but had devoted herself to Jedi lore. She was an excellent teacher and had been a tremendous aide to Luke.

Mara was aghast at the change in her. The normally serene woman was distraught and haggard, her clothes were filthy, her hair matted, and deep circles rimmed her blood shot eyes. "They couldn't come, Tionne. Han asked if would. What's happened? Where is everyone?"

"Oh Mara, I didn't know what to do. It's been so horrible." She sobbed. "We all knew something happened when the Master got the message cube, but we had no idea. He just erupted, I've never seen him so angry. Even I could feel it. He's locked himself in his room, and won't come out, and, and ..."

Tionne burst into a fresh bout of tears. Mara was torn, with concern for what had so reduced Tionne, concern for the students exposed to such an intense and destructive influence, and profoundly irritated with both Luke and Callista for perpetrating this nonsense in the first instance. She grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "Tionne, where are the students? What's happened to them? I don't sense them anywhere."

Tionne abruptly seemed to remember that Mara too was trained in the Force. "After a few days, I knew something was terribly wrong. The students were fighting, having nightmares. They were somehow being affected by the Master. I told Kyp Durron and the other instructors to take the students off planet. They've been gone for over two weeks but I told Kyp to wait until I contacted them before they tried to return."

"I'm sure that was the right thing to do. Your priority was to the students, Tionne."

Tionne smiled wanly and then tears began welling in her eyes again. "Mara, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't do anything, I'm so weak, and I.."

Mara had to arrest these feelings of inadequacy. She firmly grabbed the woman's hand. "You know that this is the Dark Side working, don't you?"

Tionne's eyes widened, and Mara felt a gush of fear from her, "I knew there was something wrong, but I've been all alone after Kyp left, and I was so afraid, it's so dark and cold here ..."

As Tionne choked back another sob, Mara reached and squeezed her hand again. "Don't doubt yourself, Tionne. Sometimes the Dark Side isn't always evil, dead Dark Jedi. Sometimes it can be something much more personal and hurtful. You have done everything you could do, and more. You knew you had to get the students away." Mara stopped and looked toward the dormitories, reaching for, and through the Force, finding Luke "Luke has been through things worse than this before. He's a fighter, he'll survive." _He had better, or I'll kill him myself._

Tionne snuffled back her tears and wiped her face on a grimy sleeve. Mara felt Tionne attempt a calming technique and gently reinforced the feeling of peace. Even as she did so, the stifling dampness around them seemed to dissipate.

"It has been so frightening Mara. The Master always seems so controlled, so powerful, I can't believe the change in him, or in this place he has worked so hard to build."

"Even Jedi Masters have their weaknesses, and Luke has had a terrible shock. Han asked me if I would try to talk to him and get him to come with me off planet for a few weeks, to give him something new to do and keep him away from here."

Tionne bent toward Mara and whispered. "We don't even know what caused it. Was it ... something from Callista?"

"Yes" Mara said, and her voice was cold.

The two women began walking toward the dormitories. "I should be getting a diplomatic encrypt from Solo on Coruscant. Could you check and see if you can downlink and encode it while I find Luke?"

Tionne nodded, some of her purposefulness returning. "If I can't read it with our encryption equipment, I'll ask Artoo to try it." They stopped at the entrance to the building. "Do you want me to go with you? It's very dark and..." She bit back the rest of her sentence, seeing now what had been the Dark Side's influence upon her, feeding her fears and insecurities.

Mara shook her head. "There's nothing in there you or I can't handle by ourselves." As it was intended, her bravura cheered Tionne. The other woman left her at the door, and turned toward the communications center.

Mara pressed the door and it swung quietly opened. She ventured into its dimness, thinking that the dormitory was normally filled with the voices of young, exuberant trainees, not this cold and brooding silence. Their light seemed to be a dim echo; she heard only her own footfalls reverberating in the damp stone.

A fresh wave of disgust passed over her. This was ridiculous, other people had suffered more grievous losses than the precious master, without imperiling the balance of the Force. What made him think he was so special?

She had felt before that this particular manifestation of the Dark Side was not one of evil, but a weak willed malice. She slowly walked the dusky corridor testing the feeling. There was a will here, but rather than strong, it seemed indecisive, lonely, irritable. It did not want her to go further, but also would not exert itself to stop her. Mara wondered whether Luke was the source of this childishness, or whether, without his active Force presence, the Dark Side was merely trying to reassert itself, and keep her from seeing him. Either way, he or it, or whatever it was, was in for a disappointment. Settling herself firmly into the Force, she could feel that pathetic will slink away like a frightened, gibbering animal into the darkness.

She had no difficulty identifying Luke's room at the end of the hall and strode to it. She pounded at the heavy door.

A muffled and petulant "Who's there? Go away," came through the door.

Mara almost laughed in surprise. "You know perfectly well who it is, Skywalker. You've known since I broke orbit over this wildlife sanctuary you call home. Open the door."

"Why are you here?" came the reply.

Mara thought this was very diverting and answered in kind. "I'm here for a holiday and wanted your suggestions for local night life. No, that's not it, your Force power compels me to tell the truth. I'm here because the late Admiral Thrawn has invaded my mind. He keeps telling me to sell everything I own, donate it to a charity and live in a hut on Kessel. Satisfied, Skywalker? Now open the door."

The gloom lifted marginally. She could sense his amusement at her sarcasm in spite of himself. There was a brief touch of the Force, and the door opened inward; no one stood at the entrance. She peered into the darkened room, allowing her eyes to adjust to its dimness before trying to enter. "Ohhh, you did that without hands, I don't suppose you could find a light too?"

Hearing no response, she walked in and promptly stumbled on something on the floor. Very graceful she thought, and quickly righting herself, fumbled for a switch on the wall to illuminate the gray. The sudden brightness momentarily blinded her and she fiercely blinked her eyes to correct her vision.

"I prefer the lights off." came Luke's voice from somewhere further into the room on the left. The lights abruptly dimmed again.

"And I prefer them on," she responded tartly, and reached the glow pad through the Force and clicked it back on.

Able to see, Mara looked around the tiny room. It was a sty. Debris, clothing, bottles and paper were strewn across the floor and every surface. She identified the offending item she had tripped over, a discarded bottle, picked it up and sniffed it experimentally. "Uhmm, fermented grains from," she studied the label, "Corellia. A fine vintage. This will pack a wallop."

Looking up, she finally saw Luke curled on his bed in the corner wrapped in his brown Jedi robe, and quickly had to still the shock of his reduced condition. She waited a moment, expectantly. When he did not acknowledge her, she moved across the room to the only chair, and swept the clutter from it. "Since you offered, thank you, I will sit down."

He glanced up that time, and cracked a thin, smile. Luke had aged. He was pale, thin and very grim. His eyes were deeply stained with red and stared out of a white, drawn face. A week's or more growth of beard hung around his face. He and the room smelled of old spirits, sweat and malaise. It was appalling.

"I love what you've done with the place Skywalker. It's very welcoming, and so tidy."

"I'll tell my decorator and housekeeping droid you like it. Now that you've had your way and got me to open the door, tell me what you want so then you can go, and leave me alone. I assume that Admiral Thrawn was just a pretext."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it," she retorted brightly, her mind whirling. She had played this conversation over and over in her mind the last three weeks, and the real thing was beginning as badly as she had feared. "Actually, I need a favor." When he did not respond, she continued. "I've got a hold full of cargo that is burning a hole in my wallet. I'm due in Verrat in sixteen standard days and need a copilot. I had to leave the last one on Rishi."

This part was at least true. She could feel his fleeting amusement at her predicament. Mara's problems with her copilots were well known, and he had heaped a lot of good natured abuse on her over the years about the subject.

"Lost another one Mara?" Mara's 'copilots' were invariably young, good looking, fighter jocks with lots of experience in the cockpit, and maybe not much else. The episodes were usually brief and a disappointment for both, neither getting out of the arrangement what they had hoped, and ending with Mara depositing them unceremoniously on a planet much like the dump they had come from after a few trading runs with Captain Jade.

"Ha ha. Anyway, for this trip, I need a pilot who can actually fly, and I thought of you."

She sensed him study her, testing for some falsehood. "Why can't you fly it by yourself? You're good enough to handle a solo without somebody in the co- pilot seat."

Mara snorted. "You evidently don't know the Verrat run."

In spite of the gloom and apathy, Mara could not entirely suppress her excitement and knew that he felt it as well. "Verrat is out on the rim. A nice, quiet place, with a lovely, temperate climate, practically no industry, lots of agriculture, a small, sparsely populated planet with the population concentrated in only a few cities. The trading there is very lucrative."

"Why is a small agrarian paradise interesting to you?"

She ignored the jibe, and answered him seriously. "Two reasons, first, and this is where you come in." She picked up another bottle from the floor and righted it to demonstrate. "Think of the top here as the planet. In orbit, around Verrat, is a nasty little asteroid belt." She circled the top of the bottle with her finger. "Nothing too serious but between that and the distance, it's a pretty effective barrier to most space traffic."

"How can people live there?"

"There's an aerial defense net surrounding the populated areas."

"So why do you need me?"

"Oh, didn't I explain?" she affected innocently. "The only way to get there is to fly through the belt. I won't do it unless I've got a competent copilot."

Luke had been leaning forward to catch her explanation, and suddenly rocked back onto the bed, stunned horror on his face.

"I'm not crazy!" she slapped back, before realizing that she was responding to a strongly voiced censure that Luke had only thought, and not actually said.

She continued, "I've done the run many times, and never damaged more than a sensor array. Do you think I would do this if I would damage my ship, or get annihilated by an asteroid?" Her sense of priorities was revealing: ship first, life second.

"You said there were two reasons the trip is 'lucrative.'"

"It's all related to Verrat's inaccessibility. It's always been a popular hide away for those anxious to avoid attention: Jedi at one time, the Rebellion had a base there once, and now lots of rich ex-Imperials. If you can get through the belt with the kinds of luxury goods they miss from the Core Worlds, wine, silks, foods, whatever, they will pay top credit. Not many people do the run, and the demand there is very high. My profit margins from a Verrat trip pay my expenses for an entire year."

She paused, and responding to her hesitation, Luke asked suspiciously, "What else?"

Mara frowned at him. "NRI has reported some problems on Verrat. Nothing too serious, but Solo told me that they have lost contact with an agent. He asked me to check it out while I was there."

Luke did not bother controlling the flash of anger that struck out at Mara.

She glared at him, but stood her ground. "Hey, don't blame me."

"Why'd he contact you?" Luke asked sullenly.

"I think he knew I was headed there anyway. His calling me like that was a little too coincidental, don't you think?" Luke did not reply, still fuming. "Anyway, Solo was going to transmit the NRI report here. I asked Tionne to run it through your encrypt equipment. Solo hoped that you would go with me."

"He still could have asked me," Luke repeated petulantly, clearly irritated at her presumption.

"Maybe he tried," she said softly and after a long pause. "But since you have not been returning messages..."

He jerked as she finished her sentence in his mind, without words. "_Let's just pretend, shall we, try to preserve some dignity. You know why I really came, don't make me say it_."

Luke slumped back down onto his bed and said nothing, the depression and futility threatening to engulf him again.

Mara interrupted the self flagellation. "Will you come? I really need the help. It could be fun." Yeah, right she thought. C-3P0 would be more fun than the disheveled lump now before her on the bed. She could feel the apathy willing him to stay here, curl up, and let the darkness take him. She fought against it.

For a moment, apathy seemed to win. "I don't know. I have so much to do here. It's hard to leave right now."

Mara took the sarcastic approach. "Oh yes, students everywhere clamoring for attention from the Master. Important events to preside over." She looked over his slovenly cell. "And then of course you can always clean your room." She felt a fresh spurt of anger and was encouraged. Anger might motivate him to do something that sitting here and hoping the world would end would not accomplish.

"Since you asked so nicely, how could I possibly refuse?"

She smiled. "Great. I'll let you pack a few things and wait outside. It's about fourteen standards there, the same back, and plan on about three there. And Skywalker, thanks a lot. I owe you one." She stood up in a fluid movement. "I'll see you at the pad." and picking her way through the trash, headed out the door.

* * *

After Mara left, Luke sat for some time. At first, he had been suspicious of her, thinking that she and Han had plotted something between themselves. It seemed more that Han had orchestrated this trip. He agreed with Mara, it was too convenient that Han had just happened to know something about, where was it, Verrat. Han knew she was going there, and somehow convinced her to try to talk him into going too. Just what he needed. A long trip cooped up on a little ship with Mara was likely to be as peaceful and contemplative as an Imperial invasion.

He surveyed the cubicle that had been his refuge and prison for more than three weeks. No, it has been longer than that, he thought. Years. I've spent years here, perfecting the skills that have robbed me of any hope of a normal, adult life. I can open doors and switch on glow pads without ever leaving my bed. He idly pushed a bottle along the floor with the Force, wondering how hard he could press the fragile glass before it shattered. He could do that too, and then probably heal most of the self inflicted wounds. He was, why practically omnipotent.

And, he thought, a miserable failure. I have none of the other things that truly matter to the average man: a permanent home, a wife, a family. Every fool in the galaxy has what I want. He bitterly realized that Mara was right, there was no reason to stay, and every reason to go: without any commitments, he could leave in a moment. Without anyone to return to, he could stay away indefinitely.

The room seemed to contract and grow darker, even with the light. Luke felt a mind seeking his, and recognized his sister reaching out to him from wherever she was today. He shut off the contact, imagining a door slamming between himself and Leia. He did not want to speak with her, feel her presence, or suffer the humiliation of her concern and pity.

Clutching the message cube, he felt anew the betrayal and waste since he had heard Callista's words. "Please try to understand, I will always be your friend." Friend, what an asinine statement. Sustained by the belief that the visions of the Dathomir witch, and his own on Bakura had not been wrong, he had waited for her. He would have gone on waiting, until she either regained her powers or become reconciled to their loss. He didn't care, and had loved her, waiting for what he had fantasized would be their ultimate, and joyous reunion. Well, Callista had not waited, and what a fantasy.

The visions had been lies. Yoda had warned him that the future was always in motion, and his certainly had been. It had careened right off a cliff. Every woman he had loved was dead to him, or might as well be. Dying with Callista on the Eye of Palpatine would have been preferable to this.

He rolled over and stood up, feeling slightly light headed and wobbly. Luke had not actually left his room for a long time. The empty bottles of wine and distilled spirits he had liberated from the dining facility littered the floor. He wondered what Mara thought of that, and then decided he did not care. She was not in any position to adjudge him.

But why had she come? Although Han undoubtedly thought he had maneuvered her into coming to Yavin, he knew that Mara generally did not acquiesce to such manipulation unless it otherwise suited her ends. So, what did she want? It was flattering that she trusted him to co-pilot, but Luke wasn't fooled. Mara was always able to find some mostly competent, decorative male to help her pilot.

At least she was consistent. Mara's taste in co-pilots ran toward the young and brash; he had once told her only a cloning facility could account for the sameness of those exuberant boys who always made the mistake of telling Mara how to fly. They usually ended up walking home.

She obviously knew a great deal more about Verrat then she had told him. However, the prospect of a whole world of Imperials in exile was tantalizing. All that white armor could make for some excellent blaster practice. Pulling a bag from under the cot, he began carelessly tossing things into it. It didn't matter how long he would be gone. He thought about slipping back into the dining area, but figured Mara of all people would have a well stocked selection of distilled drinks on her ship.

Although she had not said anything explicitly, Luke had heard Mara in his mind; she knew about Callista. He was not surprised at the exchange. Simple communication between them had always been good, better even than between Leia and himself. Although he doubted she could breach the many barricades he had constructed between himself and the rest of the world, Mara had been able to penetrate his basic shielding easily, understanding things not even said. Three weeks ago, drunk and raging against Callista and the mess of his life, he had thought he had reached Mara somewhere in the reaches of space. The memory was faint and murky to him now. But, if Mara had felt him through the Force, she had not said so, and she certainly took her time getting to Yavin.

He sat again on the bed, thinking perversely that maybe he would not go with her. Pushing the bottle again, this time, like a mere mortal, with his foot, he watched it list across the floor. She had said going to Verrat might be 'fun.' Fun. He wondered how long it had been since he had had fun.

He and Callista had enjoyed themselves, but then he thought miserably, she hadn't really been all there. On the Eye of Palpatine they had found each other in some inexplicable, noncorporeal way. And afterwards, the Force had been closed to her, and he to her.

When he and Mara had broken Karrde out of Thrawn's Star Destroyer, when he had first met Han and they had recklessly rescued Leia and wandered the first Death Star, those times had been dangerous, terrifying, fun in a way. But really enjoyable?

When was the last time he had been really happy? Tatooine, blasting wamp rats? Before the Force, before his father, before his sister, before the War, before the responsibilities of being a Commander, a Jedi Master, before the wreck of his life. He could hear Yoda's admonishments: "Adventure, excitement, a Jedi craves not these things." Well, denying himself those things in the name of some Jedi ascetic had not brought him peace or love either.

He pulled on a flight suit, tossed his lightsaber and long unused blaster into the bag and closed it. Nothing was ever quiet when Mara was around. Yoda may not approve, but he was a Jedi Master too. It was time to get off this jungle rock.

* * *

When Mara emerged from the dormitory, Tionne was waiting outside with Artoo. Handing her a cube, Mara noted that some of Tionne's assertiveness had returned.

"There was a message waiting for you from General Solo." She paused. "Is the Master going with you?"

Mara nodded. "We're leaving right away." They stood silently as Mara looked around sensing the place. The chill seemed to have returned to the air.

Responding to her unspoken thoughts, Tionne interjected, "I've already spoken to Kyp. He and some of the others will return tomorrow. I told him that I believe we need to cleanse this place before the students return."

"I think you're right. There is a feeling here of malice and ill will. I don't think it's particularly evil, just mean spirited." She smiled. "Nothing like what you all faced with Exar Kuun. You'll have those students back to work in no time."

They were chatting in earnest when Luke finally joined them. He felt a pang of remorse when he saw Tionne. Although he had been annoyed with her rueful concern for him and perpetual weeping, he was genuinely sorry to see the toll the past three weeks had taken on her. As he approached, he could feel Tionne's own uncertainty and insecurity, and a fierce protectiveness emanating from Mara. Mara's warning was clear: behave, she is better than you deserve. Although he had no intention of doing anything solely to please Mara, he was blasting out of here, and feeling more magnanimous. He forced a smile and reached out to Tionne.

Tionne gushed. "Master, it is so good to see you again." If he winced at the word "Master," only Mara noticed. "We have all been so worried."

He nodded and then said stiffly, "Thank you Tionne. I appreciate your concern." He looked around. "You sent the others with Kyp." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes, Master. I have already contacted him. Kyp will return tomorrow with Kirana Ti and Cihgal. Streen will bring the students back the day after."

"I don't know when I will return, Tionne. It will be several weeks at least. You and Kyp can handle the students." Again, his question was more of a command.

"Of course," was her subdued reply.

He saw that Mara held a message cube. "Is that the NRI report?"

Mara nodded. "We can read it on the ship. Let's get going." She turned and gave Tionne a quick squeeze and a wink. "Keep those trainees in line."

Luke reached to sling his bag over his shoulder and caught Mara's eye. "Artoo's coming." He felt a quick, and then suppressed flash from her.

"I don't have a problem with that," she said evenly, implying that it was her choice and not his order that was responsible for the droid joining them.

With that, the two of them trooped toward the Fire, Artoo trailing behind. Luke turned to wave to Tionne, and watched as she moved briskly toward the Temple. As he followed Mara up the ramp, she could not resist a swipe. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" If this was any indication of her temperament, it was going to a long trip.

At the hatch, Mara hesitated. "You haven't been aboard _The Fire_ before have you?" Luke shook his head. "Weellll, let me give you the three credit tour." She grabbed his hand and whisked him into the interior. The central cabin was snug, but well apportioned, a table with a built in for seating hugged one side. The central cabin included a small galley and in the corner, a couch cluster facing a blank view screen and audio equipment. She showed him the compartment near the hatch with emergency equipment, extinguisher, environmental suits, torches, and a medpac kit. Rungs built into the wall reached to the top hatch.

The sleeping quarters were aft. Mara beckoned him to the left. "Captain's quarters are back there," she pointed. "And copilot's are here." He pushed passed her, into the cabin and dropped his bag to the floor. "The necessary's in the back," she said, with a toss of her head and the slightest suggestion that he should avail himself of the shower there.

At the aft of the ship, a metal staircase spiraled down. He scrambled down after her. "Cargo hold?"

"Yep, the manifest's in the ship's computer under inventory. You will probably want to get familiar with what we've got at some point."

A door stood at the bottom of the steps, and she pushed the pressure plate. The hold automatically became illuminated, revealing neatly secured and color coded cartons stacked deck to ceiling. Mara gazed at the ordered sight adoringly and sighed.

She was suffused with pride for her ship, her cargo, her trading run. Even his dark mood did little to suppress her high spirits. Mara bounded back up the steps and he followed more sedately. By the time he joined her in the central cabin she was already pulling up the metal plating from the deck to show off all of the ship's principal systems: life support, propulsion, sensors, shields, hyperdrive, operating computer, hydraulics, defenses, and everything else. She would have insisted on dragging him down beneath the deck to inspect the power couplings and coolant connections, but then thought the better of it.

She grinned apologetically. "Sorry, I get carried away."

They replaced the floor plates and he looked around. "Do you keep this area so clear for maintenance?"

"Partly, but I also need the space," Mara said mischievously.

Luke was mystified. "What for?"

She grinned. "Lightsaber practice and dancing."

Of course, how obvious. To that, he had no response, and they headed to the fore of the ship.

The cockpit was compact and very well designed. She took what was her accustomed place, and gestured to his. The front screen commanded a wide view. They both busied with the instrumentation. Mara was running a preflight sequence, and he accustomed himself to the layout of the controls. It was all accessible, clean, well marked. She ticked off the systems, as he found them. Everything was distressingly normal and within spec. As Mara fired the engines, he eased the ship off her repulsors. They gently rose, clearing first the dense tree line of Yavin IV, and then its atmosphere.

Luke had already punched in Verrat and was waiting for the navicomp. With a hum, it spewed the coordinates, flight path and... "Thirty-five standard days! Mara you _are_ crazy. You said it was only going to be fourteen!"

An amused humph greeted his wail. "Think about it Skywalker. Would I want to be on a ship with you for that long either?"

He chuckled, in spite of himself. "Short cut, right?"

"If I had to rely on the normal hyperspace lanes to get to Verrat, I could never afford to trade there. Lay in for Rekweg."

"Rekweg? I've never heard of it." He returned to the navicomp. "Just how close will we be coming to massive gravity wells, supernovas, black holes, Maws and other hazards?"

"You know me better than that," she responded smugly. "As if I'd risk _The Fire_ or my cargo."

Luke punched in the Rekweg coordinates. "Now what?"

Mara swiveled in her chair, giving him an apprising look. "I guess I don't need to worry about you stealing my route."

He realized, amused rather than stung, that she was serious. "Trade secret?"

With a grin, she turned away, and with rapid movements, her fingers flying across the console, entered another series of coordinates. "Ready?"

"Let's blow out of here."

She laughed. "Why don't you do the honors," suggesting he could take the captain's prerogative. Luke reached for the hyperspace levers, and the stars of Yavin IV dissolved into lines.

They both sighed audibly and sat in silence. "No matter how many times that happens, it's still a thrill," Mara said reverently.

"It's easy to take for granted."

He unstraped his chair belt, and as he stood, hit his head on a picture hanging from above. It was done in a childish hand in bright colors and showed ostensibly a silver ship and a figure in black with streams of blazing red hair. The perspective was a little peculiar: the figure was many times larger than the ship. The background of the picture was also littered with things falling from the sky, including what appeared to be fiery remnants of ships and carefully drawn black stick figures with tiny parachutes.

"Oh Mara, you're an artist."

"Don't snicker at your own niece's art work Skywalker," she chided. "That's Jaina's gift to me, and I won't hear you criticize it."

He studied it again. "I especially love the hair."

"I've been trying to find that color in a bottle for weeks now," she said with a laugh.

"Any more love letters from Jacen?"

She chuckled again and shook her head. "No, and Solo said he doesn't mention my name more than a few times a day so don't be mean. Unrequited love is very hard at that age." Mara made the jest without thinking and them immediately regretted it.

Luke's features faded into a scowl, and he stalked out of the cockpit. "I'll be in my cabin if you need anything."

Mara cursed herself, and him, as he went.

Luke could feel Mara's solicitude as he stomped aft, which only added to his ill temper. He would have slammed the door to his cabin, but its smooth little slide prohibited even that simple expression of anger. He threw himself on his bunk and contented himself with struggling out of his boots and hurling them at the wall.

Callista. How could she have done this? Why did she wait so long? The message had been so short, so devastating. "I've met someone who can love me as I am. I'm sorry and hope you can forgive me. Please try to understand, I will always be your friend."

After having thoroughly rehearsed the arguments and recriminations for three weeks, he was not certain if he was more angry at the fact she had found someone else, that she had waited who knows how many months or even years to tell him, that she somehow thought she could be his 'friend,' or that believing her promise to return, he had placed his life in a dismal holding pattern.

He knew that Mara's slip had not been intentional but it still aggravated him. She could be so insensitive sometimes.

He pulled out a holo of himself and Callista and pressed it between his fingers, trying to will away the sense of betrayal. The familiar darkness enveloped him. It seemed so comforting in comparison to this harsh reality of failure. He finally slept.

* * *

The pounding in his head became louder and more insistent: a voice screeching and laughing, and a lightsaber crashing down on him. With a start, Luke bolted upright, his hazy, disturbing dream mingling with the sounds of Mara beating on his door.

"Hey Skywalker, you've slept long enough, now wake up."

"I'm up, I'm up," he repeated irritably, anything to get her to cease that banging. He tried to rise, and fumbling for a light, tripped over his bag still in a heap on the floor. Swearing, Luke limped over to the door. Mara was still rapping on it when he depressed the pad. He was pleased to see that the door opened so quickly she nearly fell into the room.

Tantalizing smells of food wafted in. "Uh, sorry for waking you, but you've been asleep for hours. I was fixing something for myself and thought you might be hungry."

Still groggy from the sleep, and grumpy from being awakened, Luke blinked at her in the brightly lit corridor, any retort dying on his lips at the audible sound of his stomach growling. Abashed, he looked down. "I guess I am, thanks. Let me wash up, and I'll join you."

Mara was already heading back down the corridor, calling over her shoulder, "Okay, but don't be too long."

Finding the light switch, he was able to navigate unimpeded and headed to find a sink to splash the last of sleep away. The image that stared back at him from the mirror was depressing. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking that although three weeks of beard on some might be appealing, on him it was mostly pathetic. _Where has my self respect gone_, and then immediately knew the answer. It fled when Callista did. Well, it was just Mara.

She was already sitting at the table with a steaming plate of something in front of her, and another waiting for him. He eased his way into the booth, across from her. "What's this?"

"Dinner," came the unhelpful reply.

"Thank you for clarifying that Mara, I have a much better understanding of the subject now." She smirked. He began toying with the colorful mound with a fork and tentatively tried a bite. It wasn't bad.

Mara was actually apologetic. "I don't waste space with much in the way of food stuffs and the ship's culinary capabilities are limited. You'll have to wait until Verrat for fine dining. But in answer to your concededly fair question, it's a mixture of legumes and grains, some vegetables and nuts."

He wondered how long it had been since he had eaten proper food and began attacking the plate. "No meat?"

She wrinkled her nose. "On a hyperspace jump?" as if the answer were obvious. "Or are you one of those people who doesn't think it's a meal unless something dead is served?"

"Of course not," he retorted. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"Oh." She then said more contritely, "The drinks are in the shelf behind your seat. Why don't you grab something?"

He slid back a panel and beheld a dazzling array of spirits, wines, ales and other mysterious looking bottles. "I knew you'd be well stocked." He began pulling bottles out and setting them on the table. "Let's save the Corellian for later, shall we?"

She nodded. "Definitely not with food. How about that one?" She pointed several tall bottles with some type of amber brew. "Those are good, it's a Wallchilian ale, distilled from grain."

"I'm not picky."

"I noticed."

As Luke poured out two glassfuls and slid one over to her, she commented, "I didn't know you drank much."

He shrugged. "I didn't until about three weeks ago. One of the consequences to being a Jedi Master; it takes a lot before you feel the effect." He quickly downed his glass and helped himself to another, taller one.

"Wouldn't you be able to neutralize the alcohol in your body anyway?"

He shrugged again. "Sure, but then what would be the fun of that?"

"Fun? You have fun? I didn't know that."

"Yes, well, now you do, it's the new me." He slammed down another drink.

Mara eyed him speculatively and then downed hers and gestured for more. "I don't think I'll be able to match you better than two to one. We'll see who's standing at the end of the night." They ate in silence and, once finished, Mara cleared and stowed the plates. Luke had replenished their drinks by the time she sat again.

Mara peered at her glass, and then spoke aloud. "We need some evening entertainment. Do you know any drinking games?"

He thought a moment. "You mean like up the river, down the river or credit bounce?"

Mara rummaged in her pockets for a couple of credit chips and set them on the table. She arched an eyebrow. "Since I used to work in bars, that's how I learned them, but I bet drinking games aren't part of the Jedi curriculum."

"Nope, but they are on Tatooine." He massaged a chip between his fingers and then abruptly bounced it off the table and with a gentle nudge of the Force, arced the chip into her glass.

"I am not going to drink that glass, you cheat. You used the Force."

"I did not."

She stuck her lip out at him. "You did too. I could feel it. If we're going to play, you have to promise not to use the Force." And with that, she expertly bounced a chip into his glass. "Drink up farm boy."

"Just what I get for playing credit bounce with a cocktail waitress." He drained his glass and fished the chip out of the bottom. Mara gulped down her ale, and then caught the chip in her teeth.

Credit chips, aided and unaided by the Force were soon bouncing off the walls of the cabin. Luke, trying to match Mara's oral dexterity with credit chips, swallowed one. Mara was laughing so hard, she swallowed hers as well.

Having gone through several bottles of amber whatever it was, Luke began perusing the cabinet for more. "I figure that once we finish your liquor cabinet, we can break into the hold and drink your wine too." Mara sputtered her drink at him in outrage. "That's the problem with you Mara, no sense of humor."

She was ready to fling a stinging retort when she saw him stiffen and slowly draw out a cut glass bottle filled with syrupy orange liquor.

He was studying the label. "Is this what I think it is?"

She swallowed hard and nodded, "Bakuran namana spice nectar. I'm sorry, I.." she stammered. "I forgot it was there."

Luke uncorked the bottle and swirled the nectar into their glasses. "Although Gaeriel was quite a distraction at the time, I recall that this is wonderful." He sighed and seemed to retreat into himself.

Mara raised her glass and caught his eye. "To Gaeriel." He lifted his glass in tribute and their glasses clinked. Mara added, "May we all go down fighting." He nodded and they both drained their glasses and he refilled them.

"I didn't really know her. You met right after Endor didn't you?"

And so he told her the story, of Bakura, the Ssiruuk, the entrenchment process that would murder and enslave humans to the aliens' battle droids, Dev, the young man who had been his first student, the treachery of the Governor, the almost comical attempts to cooperate with an Imperial world, his reflexive reaction to stormtrooper armor, the then budding romance between Han and Leia. As they continued to sip the fiery liquid, Mara listened, and eventually, he told her of Gaeriel, of her religion, her commitment to her people, her decision to stay, her husband, her daughter.

They sat in silence, and he shook his head trying to clear it. Luke steadied himself, and then asked the question to which he thought he already knew the answer. "How did you know about Callista?" As Mara hesitated, he could feel conflicting emotions welling from her: reluctance, apprehension, compassion. He tried prompting her again. "You were already on the way to Yavin, weren't you." She nodded stiffly, not speaking. "So you already knew before Han contacted you."

She nodded again, frozen to her seat, and then finally whispered, "I felt it. When you heard from her, I knew."

He leaned back, absorbing the fact that they had linked, knowing why this would be so traumatic for her. "I'm sorry Mara. I didn't mean to do that, to you of all people." He tried to lighten the mood. "I'm amazed you didn't just plot a course for the point furthest from Yavin."

She responded in kind, forcing a thin smile. "I tried. I was with Karrde and some of his people. They thought I was having a nervous breakdown."

He grinned at that and gestured to the namana liquor. "If we keep drinking this stuff, we'll end up addicted to it." He turned back to the cabinet. "Since we're drinking to my old loves, I don't suppose you have anything from Chad."

Unbidden, the response formed in her mind, unsaid, "I have to tell him..."

She might as well have spoken aloud. Luke whipped around and stared at her. "Tell me what?" His tone was icy, threatening.

Mara shrank back, but he lunged across the table and seized her wrist. "Tell me what?" She tried to snatch her hand away, but he held it in a vise. "Tell me," and suddenly plunged into her mind, trying to rip the memory from her.

Without any conscious effort or thought, in an instant, her mental barrier slammed into him with a power that sent them both reeling. Mara shook free of him and hissed, "Don't you ever do that to me again."

The air was thick with an electric tension between them, the Force crackling with potent friction. Both were momentarily stunned from the Dark Side that had unexpectedly surged. The anger was palpable, straining against a wall that threatened to burst out, and cut a swath of destruction. Luke struggled to find a calm place within himself, and felt Mara fighting for the same control. Both were breathing hard from the exertion and concentration it took to avert what had been a dangerously close brush with violence.

Mara recovered sufficiently to speak in a measured tone. "I did not mean to hide this from you. If you want to know, I'll tell you, but you have to ask."

He exhaled deeply, responding to her implicit apology. "I'm sorry too. Please, can you tell me what happened."

She took a deep breath. "I've been trading on Chad for several years now," she began. "There are some good sea based products, fish eggs, fertilizers with high iodine and nitrogen content, some interesting medicinals." She hesitated. "I won't try to deny it, I guess. I did think that if Callista was around she might show up there. I never actually looked for her, but, I knew you would want to know what she was doing, where she was, so I just kept my eyes open. I never really examined my motives too closely." She glared a challenge at him, threatening that he had better not scrutinize her motivations too closely either.

Perhaps not liking the hanging implication, she added, "Don't get any wrong ideas. I thought she had been a callous bitch leaving like that, and then continuing to dangle you along. To the extent I thought about it at all, I guess I figured that if you knew what she was doing, then maybe you could get on with your life."

He thought Mara's characterization of Callista was a little strong, but stayed silent.

When he did not respond, she continued. "I went to Chad a few months ago on a buying run to prepare for this trip. I had landed on one of these weird floating cities they have, and contacted my usual broker. We were just gossiping about routes and prices when he mentioned that there had been some changes with one of our suppliers, a family I had been trading with for a while. He said that a woman from the family had returned after years away and had not aged a day. He said she had left Chad, had been a Jedi, had been terribly wounded in a fight with the Emperor, and even Mr. Luke Skywalker himself couldn't save her powers."

"Well, it had to be Callista and I asked my broker to arrange a meeting. It turns out, she had heard I was there too, and was looking for me. So, we met." Mara stopped. "I think I need some of the Corellian stuff now."

He picked the brandy bottle out of the debris on the table and sloshed some into glasses for both of them. "So what happened then, how did she look?"

Mara drained her glass in a gulp and gestured for more. "She looked good. Happy. She..." Mara gave him a warning look, and he tried to steel himself for the next revelation. "She brought her husband, and their baby daughter."

He groaned, and sunk his head, realizing that it wasn't only that Callista had met 'someone.' She had already married and had a child, while he had rotted on Yavin waiting for her. He took a deep draught of the brandy, waited for Mara, and then refilled their glasses again. "Callista said they had been on Chad for less than a year, that they had met on Marffren, in a library at the capital city there."

"What was she doing there?"

"I asked the same thing. She said that she had been following a lead Tionne had given her. Some Jedi who dabbled in the Dark Side, and lost his powers."

Luke nodded. "Jedi lore teaches that a man named Ulic Qel Droma turned to the Dark Side to fight in the Sith War. He ultimately betrayed Exar Kuun and helped to defeat him. But even in turning away from evil, Qel Droma was blinded to the Force."

"Oh. Well she explained that both she and her now husband had gone there for the same reason. They had both lost their contact with the Force and were trying to regain it. She had thought that if they examined Qel Droma's library on his home planet, they might find something to help them."

"But they didn't find anything."

Mara shook her head. "Callista said that they did learn that although the Force is not corporeal, it does emanate from life. When a person's body undergoes a severe, near death trauma, she thought the Force may move onto the next plane, and leave the body behind. It was all speculation, but the best explanation they found. So they stayed on Marffren for over a year, researching and then trying to reach the Force, together. Only the Dark Side was open to them. So they gave up and returned to Chad. Her parents were dead, but her brothers and sisters, and their children were still there. They remembered her and welcomed them back."

"And somewhere along the way, she fell in love with this person." Luke tried, but did not wholly succeed in keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

"Callista said that each of them was only a half of their former selves, and together they made a whole."

They downed more brandy. Luke knew he was rapidly approaching some severe state of intoxication, and the way Mara was listing to the side, she wasn't much better. "What was his story, how did he lose the Force?"

He saw Mara shiver, with the memory of it. "Callista didn't say at first, except that there had been a terrible accident. But as soon as I saw him, I thought I knew."

"What?"

"Do you remember during the Dreadnaught battle and again on Wayland, that sort of buzzing in your mind?"

A wave of revulsion passed through him, echoed from Mara. "He's a clone?"

"Callista said that his parents, well, I mean his host's parents had been Jedi. They had tried to train him in secret, somewhere in the Outer Rim. But Vader found his parents and murdered them. He managed to escape, and eventually became a trader, and with the Force, apparently a very skilled pilot. He stayed out of the Rebellion, and would have probably gone on living a quiet life in obscurity except that Thrawn found him. He was conscripted into the Imperial navy, strapped into a fighter, and performed too well. You can guess what happened then."

He surprised himself by feeling pity. "It's horrible. We don't really think about what happened to all those people Thrawn cloned."

Mara shrugged. "I suppose he behaved as honorably as he could. His host was so horrified at what he had become a part of, he killed himself, piloting a Howlrunner into a Star Destroyer. The clone, or at least this one, found that he had lost the Force, remembering it, but unable to contact it."

"So cloning destroyed his Force sense. That idea of trauma to the body may explain why the ability is so rare in clones."

"Could be. Anyway, he deserted the Imperials and wandered a while before, like Callista, ending up on Marffren."

Both Mara and Luke simultaneously reached for the brandy and a refill. Mara looked at him closely, apparently trying to gauge his reaction, or maybe wishing, in her state, that he didn't have two heads staring into two glasses. "I couldn't think of a way to bring up the subject. I thought drinking might loosen my tongue. I guess it did."

"Was she ever going to tell me? Or was she just going to, how did you say it, dangle me along for a few more years?"

Mara squinted slightly. "I don't know. I came down on her pretty hard. I told her that she had to tell you, that you still loved her and had been waiting for her. That surprised her. She said that she'd been certain that in the end, you would've realized that she couldn't give you what you really needed, and would move on. I didn't believe her. Maybe she was afraid to tell you, maybe she didn't want to hurt you, and thought you would take it, well, like you did."

"What did she expect?" he swore. "Of course I'd be hurt, but that still doesn't excuse leaving me hanging for so long."

Mara flared back at him. "Hey it's not my fault. This kind of paternalism drives me wild." Her voice became shrill, in a high pitched mimicking whine. "'I was just trying to protect him, it was for his own good.' I don't know about you, but I want the bad news, and if I don't like what I hear, well that's my problem. She actually suggested that I tell you. I almost ripped her head off. But before I left, I got her to promise that she would contact you. You know the rest."

He hunched over, feeling an increasingly familiar black rage creeping inside him, the desire to do harm, to take revenge.

Mara interrupted his brooding suddenly, reaching across the table and delivering a stinging slap, furious. "You can cut that out right now. I won't tolerate that kind of garbage around me or on my ship. If you keep it up, you'll be floating home."

He gaped at her in open mouthed amazement. "Geez Mara, thanks for retracting your claws first." He rubbed his cheek, then said more soberly, "I didn't mean. . ."

"Yes you did," she snapped, but then softened as she felt him battle against the anger he had aimed at her, at Callista. Even in his now thoroughly bleary state, he could feel her reinforcing his struggle for control, trying to create an aura of calm in his wild desperation.

They continued swilling the brandy in silence, each fighting a battle with consciousness and comprehension. Mara finally blurted, "Listen, Skywalker, all I can say is, she isn't worth it. Nothing is worth the Dark Side. You want revenge, fine. But don't give her the satisfaction of thinking she had the power over you to wreck your life. The best revenge is to live well."

"So I'm getting advice from Mara Jade on how to be happy?" He did not think he meant the statement as a jibe, and she evidently did not take it as such.

"If you're looking to me for suggestions on satisfying personal relationships, then you deserve everything you get." She waved her hand for emphasis and almost rocked out of her seat. "But seriously, this moaning poet thing is just not you. You're a fighter, so start acting like one. It's time to get on with your life." She giggled at the self importance of her pronouncements. "I know I've had too much Corellian when I start dishing out advice."

That time he laughed too. She pounded the table. "I have an idea. Let's see if we can find you a new girlfriend on Verrat."

He objected, "Verrat's too far."

She considered that a moment. "See, problem is, you're always wait'n in the wilds for them to come to you. You hafda to go where the women are. We gotta develop a ... a marketing plan for you. We'll plot out where you can go and find a girlfriend, like what Calrissian did. He did pretty well."

Luke cringed slightly at the memory, but then brightened, catching her enthusiasm. "We could go on some trading runs together, and scope out the local eligibles."

"Hey, if you come with me, I get a commission if you find a good one."

"Commission?"

"Yeah, I want, uhhh, twenty five percent of gross, not net, gross."

"That's outrageous, sixteen and a half, tops."

"Hey, it's my ship, and my idea, twenty four."

"Twenty."

"Twenty two and a half, and that's my final offer, or you'll have to find a girlfriend without my help."

Luke protested, but if he could get a girlfriend out of it, it might be worth this exorbitant sum. He tried to focus on Mara and wondered whether he or she was the one leaning to the left. "Except, we still gotta find one before you get your commission. And how are we gonna do that, when you'd scare them all away."

"I would not."

"You would too. No respectable woman would come near you, Mara."

"That's not very nice, even it is true. I don't like respectable women, they're boring. Why do you want one?"

"I dunno. But do you know any?"

"Uhhhh, what were we talking about?" Mara had lost the thread of the rambling conversation.

"Respectable women."

"Oh them."

"Do you know any?"

"I think so."

"So will you introduce me to them?"

She stuck out her chin stubbornly. "I'm not going to introduce you to any respectable women unless you can find me a better supplier of copilots."

He could solve that problem. "I know lots of pilots."

"Are they cute?"

"How would I know that?"

"Would I like them?"

"I dunno. You'd have to meet them."

"I like `em cute, dumb and real uncomplicated." They both started giggling.

Mara resumed, with great earnestness. "But farm boy, I don't know many respectable women. What if you don't like them? Where are we going to find you a girlfriend?" Pondering this profundity required further fortification.

A light suddenly shown through the haze of Luke's rapidly ebbing coherence. "I know! I could put an ad on some of the system wide boards or mags, '30 something standard year single, male, humanoid Jedi Master seeks single, female humanoid for relationship, possible long term commitment."

Mara added, "Some Force proficiency preferred, but not necessary. Must like jungle worlds and Corellian brandy."

She reached for the bottle and chugged several swallows. Luke was in awe; Mara was so talented, he didn't know if he ever recalled seeing a woman do that before. She handed the bottle back to him, and not to be outdone, he drained the rest.

They both looked mournfully at the now empty bottle. "Mara, it's all gone." He had an inspiration. "Let's go down to the cargo hold, and find some more." He lurched to his feet and she staggered after him.

"Wait," she grabbed him by the collar. "The hold is this way."

The force of his change in direction sent him sprawling into her. He slung an arm over her shoulder for support. "Does your ship always spin this much?" She nodded sagely.

They reeled along the corridor, Mara almost pitching down the stairs into the hold. This time, he grabbed her collar and leaned her up against the door to his room. She looked at the spiraling stairs. "Oh damn . . stairs. Farm boy, I don't think I can do stairs."

He had to agree, it looked awfully far.

"Maybe if we rest a moment."

Mara was very amenable. "Okay, where? The deck looks comfortable . . ." She started to slide down the wall.

"No, wait, we'll rest in my room."

"Okay."

It took them a few moments of fumbling to find the control pad. When by virtue of luck and repetition, he and Mara managed to get the door open, he fell into the dark room, and promptly tripped over the bag he still had not cleared from the floor. He grabbed Mara for support, and they both tumbled onto the bunk, laughing hysterically.

They lay there until Mara tried to extricate herself. He tugged her arm and she slipped, almost to the floor. He complained, "Stop making the bed spin, I'm trying to rest."

She lay back down. "Which way are you spinning?

"Uh, right."

"I'm going left."

"No wonder we can't navigate." More giggling, thoroughly at odds with the images of a Jedi Master and Master Trader.

Mara offered a helpful suggestion. "You know, I've always found that if you put a hand on the floor, you won't get the spins."

"Really?"

Mara tried to demonstrate, and almost fell out of the bed again. Luke latched onto her and pulled her back up. Wanting to test her theory, he tried to put his hand on the floor, but found something softer and more yielding instead.

"That's not the floor."

"What is it?"

"I think it's my breast, but I'm not sure."

"Oh," he pulled his hand back. "Sorry."

She flopped over onto her stomach. "I'm going to rest. Wake me when you want to go to the hold." He was already asleep.

* * *

**To follow,**

**CHAPTER 2  
Uninvited Guests, Part 2, continued  
**_In which there is a morning after, Mara has the shock of her life, and Luke has the shock of his life.  
Also, the introduction of Duke and Tara. _


	2. Chapter 2 Uninvited Guests, Part 2

**Stuff  
****CHAPTER 2  
****Uninvited Guests, Part 2, continued**

_In which there is a morning after, Mara has the shock of her life, and Luke has the shock of his life.  
Also, the introduction of Duke, Jenna Mard and the Tales of the Jedi: "Mara, you were on Wayland, too. Do you remember this much sex?"_

* * *

Mara's first thought on waking was, _only the dead feel this lousy, and then where am I?_ From years of repetition, she was immediately able to identify the nasty repercussions unique to excessive amounts of Corellian brandy: a telltale pounding in her temples and a dry, foul taste in her mouth. She heard a soft snore abruptly in her ear, and froze. A snore? She willed herself to stay calm. Her foggy brain battled with mounting dread as she frantically tried to remember where she had last been drinking Corellian brandy and, more importantly, judging from the sounds next to her, with whom. Slowly opening one eye, Mara then quickly shut it, the ensuing heart attack perhaps the best remedy for her whammy of a hangover.

She groaned inwardly, fighting every instinct that cried out to leap up, run screaming into the corridor, and launch herself into the vacuum of space. Death was definitely preferable to this.

_At least_, she thought grimly, _this time, I know his name_.

Panic set in. She could feel the weight of his arm across her torso. She had to get out of there. Forcing herself to confront the inevitable, Mara steeled herself for what she was certain would be an appalling sight, opened both eyes, and glanced downward. His arm was resting on top of her, she tried not to whistle audibly, fully clothed body. She slid out from under the offending arm and stood up, far too quickly as her head protested this abrupt and unfair treatment. Mara slithered out of Skywalker's room, mercifully avoiding the debris on the floor, and fled.

In the privacy of her own cabin, Mara indulged in the relief that flooded her. _Gods... If there are gods, _she thought silently, _I thank you. _

She lay down in her bunk, replaying the evening in her still throbbing head. Keeping Callista secret from him had been a strain; she was relieved that he finally knew the whole truth. Now, to administer to this wicked hangover. Some cold water, an anti inflammatory/vasodilator, a toothbrush and a clean flight suit did wonders to restore her equilibrium. She grabbed her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt and headed to the main cabin. She could use some exercise with the remote . . . after clean up.

The cabin was a scene of carnage. Her head still tender, Mara repeated a mournful refrain common the galaxy over; how in the stars did we polish off an entire bottle of Corellian brandy? The number of empties, albeit degenerate, made for an impressive tally. Sticky credit chips were stuck to the walls, deck and furniture. She marveled at how far they had bounced. As Mara scrubbed at the table, she began to think of the trip in a much more positive light. Skywalker was, all things considered, not a bad drinking buddy. She wondered if he could dance.

She was on her hands and knees and so intent on prying a recalcitrant credit chip off the deck that she did not immediately feel the Force presence behind her. A tingling on the back of her neck alerted her. She looked up and around, and for the second time that morning, her heart stopped in her chest. A beneficent, serene man in a brown Jedi robe was staring down at her. He was illuminated in soft glow. Scrambling to her feet, she retreated to a corner. _Skywalker,_ she swore, _this is your doing._

He or it, or whatever it was spoke first. "It has been a long time since we met, Mara Jade." Mara remained mute. "Do you not recognize me?"

Mara sent a brief tendril out to the whatever, and then felt a shock of recognition as its own Force presence rose to meet her. She tried to keep her voice from quavering. "Vader?"

He paused, as if considering. "Yes, I was once known by that name, but now I am as I was before, Anakin Skywalker."

Mara thought ruefully, this is what I get for meddling with Jedi. "Yes well, your son is sleeping off a hangover in the next room. Why don't you go and appear to him instead of me."

Vader smiled. "You have changed much since we last met, Mara, but in some ways you are very much the same. The Force is strong in both you and my son, but it is difficult to bridge the divide between this place and mine. Because you knew me better, even in my old life, it is easier for me to appear to you now."

"Oh lucky me." Despite her sarcastic reply, Mara did relax slightly. She was dumbfounded that the awful creature she had known so well for so long could now be so benign.

But still. "Listen, Vader. We were not exactly on the best of terms then, and frankly, I have no desire to continue the acquaintance now. So, please save your breath, or whatever it is that you have now and get off my ship."

The infuriating shape looked quite solemn. "Despite what your pride may lead you to believe to the contrary Mara, I have not made this difficult journey for your benefit. I have come for the sake of my son, to deliver a message and a warning."

_I knew it_, Mara thought. Skywalker was going to feel a hell of a lot worse than a mere hangover after she was through with him. "Yeah well, speak up and get out."

Vader continued quietly as if she had not spoken. "You must remind him that fear and anger are not the only ways to the Dark Side. Despair and loneliness are also of the Dark Side."

Between the rebuke and now an order, Mara's apprehension dissolved into anger. "I am not your errand boy, Vader. Skywalker is a grown-up and how he chooses to wreck his life is not my concern. Others have suffered more than he has. If he wants to wallow in self-pity, let him."

Vader/Anakin just looked at her sympathetically for a long, uncomfortable moment, and then gently remonstrated her. "If you examine your feelings Mara, you know that is not true. Whether you have wished it or not, the Force has bound you and my son. He has been in great danger. His path is clearer now, but the Dark Side remains a compelling and seductive temptation for him. You have shown him a path. You must help him remain on it."

Mara exploded. "Who do you think you are? I don't take orders from you. Your son is not my responsibility."

If she had hoped to goad him out of that contemptible Jedi serenity, she was disappointed. He simply looked at her pityingly. "Mara, my son once saved me, and he has saved you. Now we must save him."

Mara tried to absorb the extraordinary conversation but words failed to her. It was all just too bizarre. Vader continued. "Luke believes that he will spend the rest of his life alone and unloved. Tell him that is not his path, tell him to remember the words of the Dathomir witch."

Anger was replaced by mystification. "Dathomir?"

"He will understand."

"Listen Vader, I've no idea what you're talking about," she said brusquely. "I mean, sure he's depressed, but we all get over it. I think he just wants to believe that Callista might still come back to him."

Vader was quiet for several heartbeats, then said harshly, "I have come here to speak to you of my son. I cannot see the way of that woman."

Mara felt foolish arguing with something that wasn't really there, and it galled her on principle to ask anything of Vader, but she tried anyway. "I think it would make a difference to him if knew for certain."

Another long silence filled the room before he spoke again. "The Force demands that when the time comes, we abandon our corporeal presence here, and move willingly to the next plane. When one refuses to do so, even for the best of reasons, there will be a price. Our corporeal sense remains, but the Force may move on. Only the Dark Side is open to such people."

She just stood in the middle of the cabin staring at the deck. This was all Skywalker's fault, and she was thoroughly cursing her impulsiveness in going to Yavin. Vader must have sensed her irritation and confusion. "My child ..."

She hardened at the intended endearment. The irony of Vader calling her by such a gentle and familiar term was infuriating. "I am not a child."

"No, forgive me, I know that you are not."

He looked down at the lightsaber dangling from her belt. "You bear my old blade."

"Yeah, so, do you want it back?" He smiled at her, and she responded defensively, "Skywalker gave it to me," realizing that he probably already knew that.

"Ask yourself Mara Jade, why did a Jedi give you his father's lightsaber?"

She tensed, unwilling to say to him what she herself had often wondered. "I don't know why he gave it to me."

Vader just gave her an inscrutable smile. It was vaguely reassuring to know that Vader had not changed all that much; he still enjoyed making others uneasy, it was only a matter of degree. "Use it well. I must leave now. Good bye Mara Jade. I do not know if we will meet again. Love my son well."

Now that was a low blow. She erupted in fury as he dematerialized, stomping around the deck to relieve her frustration. _Damn, damn, damn Jedi and all who fly with them_. Who the hell did he think he was? Last time she had seen Vader he was choking some poor servant at Coruscant Palace for dropping a plate. The incongruity of him now dispensing tender counsel was simply beyond comprehension. Save her indeed. She was the one who found Skywalker floating in the middle of nowhere with a busted hyperdrive. She was the one who got him out of Myrkr. And now she was supposed to save him? Yeah, right.

"Love my son." What a jerk. Who did he think he was? So she had linked with Skywalker half way across the galaxy; big deal. She had also shared a mental link with the late, unlamented Emperor for years without ever once featuring him in any erotic fantasy of hers. If Vader actually thought that he could compel her to do anything, he was sorely mistaken.

Stomping and banging about the deck was not providing a sufficient release for her foul temper. Between inadvertently waking up in Skywalker's bed, her Corellian sized hangover, and now the long dead Darth Vader showing up on her deck to proffer advice to lonely hearts, it was shaping up to one hell of a morning. She stalked over to her weapons closet and pulled out a blaster remote and a helmet. It was time to let off some steam. She set the remote at one of the upper difficulty ranges, and just to make it fair, lowered the blast shield on her helmet and activated _her_ lightsaber. If she got a little burned during practice, so much the better.

Luke's own return to the land of the conscious was only slightly less alarming than Mara's, albeit for different reasons. Waking was like crawling out of a dark pit, his own reaction to the after effects of Corellian brandy similarly excruciating. _Why, oh why do I do this to myself? _He considered using the Force to cleanse the worst of the toxins, but then stopped. He deserved this pain.

As he was counting the bones in his skull, he heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber against blaster fire. He leaped out of bed, and instantly regretted the sudden moves.

_This time, I will pick up the damn bag from off the floor. _As he fell to the deck, he reached out to Mara, and then realized that, no, the ship was not, in fact, under attack.

In defiance of all normal endurance and decency, Mara, from the sounds of it, was engaged in an intense lightsaber practice with a remote. He groaned, and crawled back into the bunk. Her energy was exhausting. Not wanting to disturb her concentration, he reached out cautiously, trying to gauge how long she had been at it, and most importantly, when the appalling noise would stop.

He was surprised at her concentration and, well, ferocity. She was firmly aligned with the Force; he could feel it rippling powerfully from and through her. The sounds of her lightsaber deflecting the remote's blasts and Mara's intense focus evidenced a competence and skill he did not know she possessed. It also felt that she had some time to go yet in her workout.

Mara. Hadn't she been here, in this bunk last night? He went over the evening, and recalled her nearly falling out of the narrow bunk, once, no twice. So what had happened? Even when thoroughly drunk, he was not generally in the habit of throwing attractive women out of his bed, but then this was Mara so anything was possible. Belatedly, he realized he was still in his flight suit, which was, at this point, a more reliable indicator of what had happened the previous night then was his own memory.

He grinned. She must have woken up at some point, had a near death experience and fled. Too bad she didn't leave something compromising behind. He was looking forward to giving her a real hard time for this intriguing combination of wantonness and sheer cowardice.

Musing on how the night ended, brought him round eventually to how it had begun. Callista was gone and the Force lost to her. He might have accepted her, but he had begun to understand that she could have never tolerated the dependency she believed that would have entailed. He felt genuine pity for her new husband, whoever he was, and supposed that he and Callista, both scarred by horrific experiences, would be able to carve out some kind of precarious happiness. What remained inexplicable to him was that Callista had not told him. He wondered if, but for Mara's precipitous arrival on Chad, he would have ever known.

Whatever her purported reasons, he simply could not forgive or condone such cold heartedness. He could feel the rage and betrayal surge in him again, but this time, summoned the strength to beat it back.

The sounds of intense fire penetrated his cabin. He groaned again. Might as well face the day, there was now no possibility of further sleep with Mara sounding as if she were defending against an entire battalion of stormtroopers. As he stumbled to the sink, he again caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked even worse than yesterday, bleary eyed, blood shot, greasy. Luke stared at the sight. Callista was gone. Debasing himself was not going to bring her back.

He wondered if maybe Mara was right. Maybe the best revenge on Callista would be to find happiness somewhere else, with someone else. He started searching the room, certain that its previous occupants would have left something to shave with and clean clothes. It was with a considerably lightened heart that he began a symbolic and physical cleansing.

Later, well scrubbed and desperately seeking a remedy for the lingering after affects of the Corellian, Luke cautiously entered the central cabin. He spied a carafe of some steaming stimulant on the table, and carefully inched toward it, prepared to wait out Mara's workout only if properly fortified. Although disturbing her concentration could be hazardous to both of them, he was chagrined that in her total focus on the remote, she was not aware of his approach from the rear.

He examined her technique with a critical eye. He recognized some of his own instruction, and some stances that were unfamiliar to him. She held the lightsaber with the ease that only long practice awarded; her defenses against the remote were swift, graceful, feline. As he had been taught, and now taught his students, he could feel the Force flowing through her, feel her draw strength from it as she deftly parried shot after shot. As she abruptly turned to deflect another bolt, he was startled to see that she had been practicing blind, with the blast shield on her helmet down. He flexed his fingers in anticipation, a match or two against Mara during the trip might be a real challenge.

The remote suddenly stopped and beeped. Luke watched Mara close down her lightsaber, slowly straighten and then quickly turn toward where he was standing. He sent out a quick touch.

"Oh," her voice was muffled through the helmet. "It's just you."

He was about to respond with a tart "and good morning to you too," but then caught the tension in her mind and voice. Her hair and face were slick with sweat as she pulled the helmet off.

"What did you mean, 'just me?' Where you expecting someone else?" He asked, not really expecting a reply.

She stood, studying his face, and then shrugged. "I guess I see a family resemblance."

"Huh? Uh, Mara it's too early and my hangover way too painful for guessing games."

She ambled to the table, deposited her gear and tossed him a bottle of tabs. "These'll help." She sat heavily on the seat, still breathing hard from her practice.

"Anakin was here."

Luke was bewildered. "Anakin...?"

Mara shook her head. "No, not your nephew, Vader, your father."

"What?" He sank down on the seat across from her and as his head began to throb anew, promptly downed two anti inflams.

"Vader was here, not more than an hour ago, while you were still sleeping off the Corellian."

Luke was incredulous. "My father appeared to you, here, and I missed him?"

"Are you listening to me, or is mimicking the best you can do?" The strain in her voice was clear. "Yes, as I said, your father, Anakin Skywalker, formerly Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, Champion of the Emperor Palpatine, etcetera, etcetera. You know the heavy breather with the black mask, who used to go around killing lots of people, was here, on my ship, speaking to me, this morning, on top of one of the worst hangovers of my entire life. So be nice, farm boy, I've had a real bad morning."

Luke felt a pang of loss. His father had once appeared to and spoken with Leia, but had not sought him out since Endor. "Why didn't he appear to me?"

"You mean apart from the fact that you were still unconscious? Believe me I tried, even offered to wake you up . . . sort of. But no, he was quite insistent, said that because I knew him better it was easier to appear to me than to you."

He supposed that made sense. "Why did he come?"

Mara did not answer right away, but finally sorted out a cool response. "He came because he wanted to warn you. He wanted me to tell you that fear and anger are only part of the Dark Side. He said loneliness and despair lead there too and he thought you were being tempted to the Dark Side."

"But that's ridiculous. Why would he think that?" Even as Luke uttered the denial, he felt foolish. Even if not consciously aware of it, he knew that the Dark Side had been at work, sapping his will and esteem and making him more vulnerable to destructive impulses.

Mara concurred in his self realization with a disgusted snort. "Oh the mighty Jedi insight at work. Think about it farm boy, or do I need to slap you around some more?"

Luke rubbed his cheek expressively. "That's alright, Mara, I think I got the message."

She looked him up and down, registering for the first time his altered, cleaner appearance. "Looks like you did."

He felt a fresh surge of anger from her. "What did he say that made you so mad?"

She glared at him contemptuously. "One of the reasons why he spoke to me instead of you was that he thought you had started down the wrong path and he couldn't reach you. He said essentially that since you had 'saved' me once, it was now up to me to return the favor."

At Luke's burst of laughter, Mara shot up from the seat with a scathing look and began pacing the cabin. "I don't think it's funny. You may let long dead Dark Lords of Sith tell you what to do, but I sure as hell don't."

Out of deference to her obvious agitation, Luke stifled his humor, and asked more seriously, "What do you suppose he meant by that?"

She raved at him. "How should I know? You're the one who got me into this mess. It was your lack of self control that interrupted my good time at a perfectly fun party." Clearly Vader's appearance had touched a nerve. "You've been screwing up my life for years, Skywalker." She stalked around some more and kicked the wall. "The state of your soul is not my responsibility."

Her angry outburst was a small epiphany for Luke. He reached over to still her pacing and gripped her arm. "No, of course it isn't Mara. Only I'm accountable for the path my life takes. You aren't my keeper and I certainly don't want or expect that from you."

She shook him off with an aggressive shrug, but did sit back down. "That's what Vader wanted."

"Yes, and if you never did what he said when he was alive, is now the time to start?" She did smile at that.

"But Mara, who's the one not showing any insight? Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe he was partly right? We are linked, and have been for a long time. Even Leia doesn't hear me as clearly as you do. You did get me off of Yavin, and you were able to tell me the truth about Callista. I'm still," he stopped, trying to say to another what he could barely acknowledge to himself. "I'm still really angry at what she did. None of this makes you responsible for me, but I am grateful for what you've done and told me. Knowing does make it easier."

Mara was very quiet, digesting what he had said. "I asked him about Callista. I told him it would make a difference to you, if you knew for certain that she could not be open to the Force again."

Luke wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, however. . . "What did he say?"

Mara furrowed her forehead. "It was rather metaphysical. He was almost angry that I asked, said that he couldn't see her path. He said that there would be a price, those were his words, if a person refuses to move to the next plane. The Force may move on, but it leaves the body behind. He specifically said that such people would only be able to reach the Dark Side." She stopped speaking and looked at him closely.

"That is consistent with what Callista learned."

Mara nodded in agreement, and then ventured tentatively, "How do you feel about that?"

He sighed. "Resigned, I guess. I understand why she left, and why she was attracted to her husband. I don't understand why she waited so long to tell me. It's very hard to avoid feeling bitter about that, and feeling that I've really wasted years waiting for someone who never intended to come back."

Mara restlessly stood up again, thrust her hands into the pockets of her flight suit, and stared at the deck. "I guess that if you don't take those risks, you might never get the pay off. You'll know not to wait so long next time."

Luke replied dejectedly, "I don't know if there will be a next time."

Mara stood, staring at the deck, before answering slowly, "That's not what Vader said."

Luke looked up at her, puzzled.

She continued, "He was rather poetic. He said that your path was not to be alone or unloved." Luke just stared at her. "It's bizarre, isn't it, to think of Darth Vader, destroyer of worlds and lives, crossing space, time and dimensions to deliver solace to the lovelorn?"

He had to agree with Mara, it was rather paradoxical.

"He also said to remember what the Dathomir witch said. I didn't know what he was talking about, but it seemed to be related."

That really threw Luke into confusion and he just gaped at her, trying to collect his thoughts. "Uh, well it is related, sort of." His mind was whirling, and Mara was clearly expecting an explanation. "I met this woman on Dathomir who was about 400 years old. She was rather confused as to the present and future, but was a powerful seer." He stopped, not willing to say anything further to her.

Mara shifted uncomfortably and Luke sensed that she was still concealing something. "Did he say anything else?"

"No, well, yes." Mara walked to the table and activated her lightsaber, gazing at it. "He noticed that I had his old lightsaber." She paused, flashing a wicked gleam, "I asked him if he wanted it back."

He laughed. "Only you, Mara."

Mara nodded with glee. "Vader told me that I really hadn't changed all that much. That was gratifying. Anyway, he asked if I knew why you gave it to me. I told him I didn't know why." She looked at him questioningly.

Luke pondered that. "I never really thought about it. It just seemed like you should have it." He paused, considering, "Did he say anything else?"

"No." Mara responded a shade too quickly, ducked her head to avoid eye contact and became absorbed with closing down her blade.

He was reluctant to press her further and decided to give her a reprieve. "You've certainly made good use of that lightsaber. I caught the end of your practice, and you are as good as anyone I've ever seen. I thought maybe we could do some matches. "

Mara was obviously relieved at the change in the topic of the conversation and pleased at the unsolicited compliment. "That would be fun. With all the trading I do, I usually manage to get blocks of days for intensive practice, but it's always with a remote."

She caught his hesitation. "What is it?"

"Well," he began slowly, "you were so focused on the remote, you lost any awareness for your periphery. I came up behind you, and you didn't know I was there until after your workout. That can be dangerous."

Her response was defensive. "I was concentrating."

"I know that, and that type of focus is important, but, if you want, we can work on it over the next couple days. You can learn to divide your attention simultaneously among different tasks."

She stared at him, weighing the critique and the offer. "All right." This time she paused before continuing. "I have never really had the opportunity to do advanced work, like with healing, prophecy, and memory, and some of the trances and meditations. Do you think I am strong enough to learn those kinds of things?"

He tried not to show his surprise at her request. "That means we will have to link, so that I can show you where those places are in your mind. But yes, I think you are very strong and could learn more."

"I can let down my mental barriers that far." She grinned, "Maybe we should start with healing hangovers."

He laughed, agreeing, "Sounds like a good place to me."

Many hours later, both Luke and Mara were ready for a break. With every mental exercise, they would discover some new barrier that Mara's unconscious would throw up. The psychic effort to coax them back down left Mara irritable and Luke drained. They both came to appreciate anew the damage the Emperor had wrought upon her.

After a particular frustrating attempt to locate the places in her mind that trigger short and long term memory recall, Mara threw in the towel with a groan. "My brain feels like a piece of fruit we've been peeling."

Luke felt equally frustrated. "We're at a real disadvantage, trying to figure out first what Palpatine did, and then how to undo it. He was so strong, we may never be able to reverse everything he did to your mind." Seeing her disappointment, he tried to soften his statement. "Don't get discouraged. I think we've made a lot of progress today, and we can keep working on it."

He stood up and stretched. "Besides, the Force vests different skills with different people; Leia has never become really proficient with a lightsaber, or some of these mental things, but you know what she's capable of in negotiations. Cihgal is a healer. Your talent may be in more external things like communications and battle."

Mara was rubbing her temples softly. "Where do you think your skills lie?"

He shrugged. "Not diplomacy certainly, or healing. Probably closer to yours, fighting, and teaching."

They were both quiet, and then with a sudden movement, Mara stood and unclipped her lightsaber. "Let's do something we're both good at. Go get yours."

As he hustled down the corridor, Luke allowed himself for the first time that day to consider the import of Mara's messages from his father. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself; a Corellian brandy induced coma was simply not an excuse for missing a rare and precious opportunity that had been mostly squandered on Mara. Or had it been? He could not ignore that Mara had known Vader for years, nor that with his recent malaise he had been more susceptible to the Dark Side. Mara had rather forcefully reminded him of that very point only the night before.

It seemed foolish that the consolation offered by, as Mara had so quaintly put it, a long dead Dark Lord of the Sith, could assuage his feelings of isolation and despair, and yet they had. He had wanted desperately to believe that his own visions and those of the Dathomir witch had not been wrong, that the contentment and fulfillment his sister had found with her family would not be closed to him. His father had offered him hope.

He tried to examine his failed relationship with Callista more dispassionately. Callista's inexplicable transfer from the Eye of Palpatine computer to the body of his now dead student had always been strange; according to Vader, it was also wrong. His reunion with Callista on this plane of existence had been so unexpected and joyous that, he now candidly admitted, he may have been blinded to the repercussions of her decision to attempt the transfer. Callista had borne the brunt of that impulsive act and the Force was probably lost to her forever.

Her own pride and character prevented her from ever joining him in a relationship that, to her, would always be unequal. In recalling how powerless he had felt on Myrkr, he truly found it hard to fault her. In a similar situation, he might have done the same thing. He should not begrudge her the happiness she had presumably found. That it, perhaps, was never meant to be, eased his hurt, and made him think more charitably both of her, and even of her long delay before killing his hopes for a reconciliation.

That Mara had been the conduit for these extraordinary disclosures seemed as incongruous to him as Vader's role had been to her. He did not envision Mara as a confidant to either Callista or his father, and yet circumstances had done just that.

He wondered again at Mara's agitation; although he could see why she would be disturbed, he did not think that the brief contact with Darth Vader could fully account for her violent and angry reaction. His father had said something to Mara that had deeply troubled her; he was certain she was concealing something important. Particularly in light of their violent clash the night before, he was loath to pry it out of her, and given her formidable mental barriers, was unsure he could even do so.

In his preoccupation with Callista he had not really thought that much about Mara. This most recent episode forced him to reassess their long association. Was Mara to play the role that first the witch, and now his father, had foreseen? He had to grin at that one; he imagined trying to explain to Mara that the Force had predestined him to be her mate. He would only say such things to her armed, and even then, victim rather than spouse, and funeral rather than wedding would be more accurate characterizations after delivery of that piece of unwelcome news.

He respected Mara, usually trusted her, admired her competence, her ability to overcome tremendous odds, her strength. Recognizing these good qualities however barely compensated for the considerable costs of her seemingly far more numerous bad ones. He recognized in himself a certain romantic sentimentality; Mara was on the other hand, a cynic, and at worse, mercurial, even a bit of a mercenary.

Yet he could not overlook the implications of the mental linkage they shared. Occasionally, as evidenced by the last two days, the bond extended to a true, thought to thought telepathy. Such a link was very unusual, even among Force sensitives. And then there was the more ephemeral connection that brought them time and again, back into the other's sphere. He mused that it was like Talus and Tralus in the Corellian system; two planets that orbited unnaturally close to each other, but whose gravitational fields forced them far enough apart to prevent one from tearing the other to pieces.

Mara would have soundly, and probably justifiably, abused him for such a metaphysical analogy. She was the only person he had ever met who could so contort the word "Jedi" into a disdainful slur. As a lifelong partner, Mara's qualifications were, at best, dubious. But, as a sparring partner she would be unmatched. He grabbed his lightsaber, and headed back.

They had been at it for almost an hour. Sheer cussedness and determination kept either from yielding the point. The air in the cabin was thick with ozone, as Luke and Mara's blades flashed and struck. Mara had warned him that doing any damage to her ship would be fatal.

Although he had the advantage of strength, reach and more experience with live opponents, Mara was a quick, agile and very creative opponent. She was opportunistic, adept with using the flat of the blade, its tip, and the hand guard to repel him. Repeatedly, he would be able to press the advantage, pushing her backwards almost to the wall, before she would parry a downward slash or trap his blade on her own and whirl out of the way.

As they parried, he was able to evaluate her skill better and recognized that some of her defensive reactions were almost automatic; she would consistently turn into a particular angle after deflecting certain blows. Her reaction was subtle, and as he probed this weakness, realized that he was seeing the conditioning of practice with a remote. She would block a thrust in one direction, and then turn almost imperceptibly to meet where she expected the next threat to be. As they tired, he felt that her reflexive action was becoming stronger, and plotted to exploit it.

He drove her hard across the cabin, repeatedly slashing first at one angle, and then another, he hoped, mimicking the attack from a remote. When she shifted her weight slightly left and down to meet the anticipated threat, he pushed in from the up and right. Mara gasped when she saw the trap, but it was too late. Her blade flew out of her hands, deactivitating before landing with a clatter on the deck.

Luke closed his own blade, and exhausted, collapsed on the couch in front of the vid. Mara squatted down, resting her head on her knees, her shoulders heaving. In a thick, dry voice, she asked, "Do you want some water?"

"Please." As she slowly stood, and went to the galley, she queried wearily, but with no anger, "It was that damned remote training wasn't it?"

He could not answer immediately, still trying to quiet his breathing. "It's very hard to avoid, even when on a random, advanced setting. The remote can still only operate within a particular field. You've been practicing a lot with one. With more live work, I think that'll disappear."

Mara reappeared with a towel, wiping her face and swilling from a bottle. She sank heavily onto the couch next to him, relinquishing both water and the now warm, damp towel. "That was great," she was finally able to blurt out.

He looked at her in surprise. "I thought you'd be mad that I beat you."

"I'm not happy about it. You did trick me, but it was a fair win. I know I have remote trained reflexes. You won't get passed them next time."

He groaned. "Probably not. You're very good. And if I can say this without sounding egotistical, very few people have ever been able to last that long against me in a practice."

She smiled at the compliment and stretched her hands, looking at them. "Sometimes I think the hand grip is too big for me; it's a heavy blade."

Locating the saber on the floor, with a weary gesture, Luke brought it rolling toward them. She stooped to pick it up, and clasped the handle in her right hand.

Luke studied her hand on the handle, tracing her grip with his fingertip, and turning her wrist back and forth, "It is large for you here," and he placed his hand over her own on the handle to demonstrate how the gap where her fingers encircled the handle closed. "See?" He gestured with his other hand. "Your thumb should be closer to your other fingers."

"Yeah, that's where it pulls a little bit."

He drew his hand away, suddenly and irrationally feeling that he and the cabin were too warm, and she, too close. Mara was engrossed in manipulating the handle, and he concentrated on studying her arm movements. He hoped his voice sounded normal when he spoke. "Vader was a lot bigger than you are and I'm sure his grip was larger too."

"I've thought about making a new one, but . . . I dunno. I'm pretty used to this one, I think I would have to unlearn a lot of what I've done to compensate for the weight and size of the blade."

"Besides," he drawled at her, "don't you like having something that Darth Vader wasn't worthy of?"

Mara smirked and gave him a shove with her elbow. "Very perceptive." She sprang up, "I'm starved. Let's get cleaned up and get some food."

"Aye, Cap'n." She grabbed the hand he proffered, and pulled him out of the couch.

Luke beat her to the galley, and after rooting around for a while, opening various things and pushing some buttons, thought he started a dinner cycle. He turned back into the cabin to look for something kinder to drink, vowing that he would never imbibe of anything Corellian again, loyalty to Han notwithstanding. Armed with a glass of apparently passable wine, he wandered to the blank vid screen and recorder to peruse Mara's many titles.

The entertainment of a dozen worlds all neatly secured and labeled: news shows, game shows, some lurid serials that even he, on a primitive rock with very little awareness of pop culture, had heard of. There were many recordings of what appeared to be regional dancing and, several bearing the alarming title, "Tales of the Jedi." He was studying this last category when Mara joined him, scrubbed, damp and in yet another of her nondescript flight suits.

She sniffed the aroma. "And he can cook too! Amazing what they teach at the Jedi Academy."

"You should know better than that as a fellow confirmed bachelor. It's either cook, hire a kitchen droid, which I can't afford, or starve."

She stopped at the table to pour herself a glass and then joined him at the vid screen. "Like my collection?"

"I've never heard of most of this stuff, but I have to ask, what is this?" He handed her one of the "Tales" tapes.

She chortled with wickedly. "Oh, you don't know about these? It's one of the most popular space operas in the galaxy right now. You really haven't heard of it?"

Mara's gleeful reaction was setting alarms off in his head. He asked warily, "Is there a particular reason why I should have?"

Her response did nothing to assuage his concern. "Farm boy, you don't get out much do you? I've got most of the series. And I know just the one we'll watch." She returned "Romance on Ord Mantell," and reached for another, which to his chagrin was entitled "Hand of Thrawn" and inserted it into the vid player.

They settled on the seating unit in front of the screen, food in their laps and a bottle of wine between them. Mara tucked her legs under her, and activated the remote. "Now, I'm not sure exactly where this one picks up, but you won't have any problem following the story."

The titles began rolling identifying actors he had never heard of, and then emblazoned across the screen: "A not so very long time ago, in this galaxy, after the defeat of the much hated Emperor and his much hated side kick Darth Vader, there was a daring band of fighters, sworn to protect the New Republic Alliance. These fighters, the Royal Order of the Most Powerful and Noble Jedi Knights, possessed of mystical powers, charisma, and bravery are led by the most courageous, dashing and sexy Luke Skywalker . . .."

Luke had chosen that inopportune time to take a bite of his meal and started choking. Mara stopped her laughing long enough to turn off the vid and administer a series of hard slaps between his shoulder blades. "Are these about me?" he gasped in horror, hoping that his last vision would not be of that dreadfully written prose.

"You bet Master Skywalker."

"And you really watch this?"

"Me and billions of others." She mocked, "Skywalker, have I gone too far? You look worse now than you did on Yavin."

At last choking down dinner, Luke muttered, "You could have at least warned me."

Mara said more apologetically, "I guess it might be a shock. Let's at least finish eating, have another glass or two, and then you'll be properly prepared." She hurried him through the meal and then they settled back down. It would be easier to bear, Luke thought, if Mara were not acting so smug. She started the vid again.

The story scrolled onward in awkward, pretentious verse. "A new threat has come to the young Republic. The wicked and alien Admiral Thrawn has secreted a cloning facility on a distant world, and our brave fighters are resolved to destroy it, or die. In our last episode, the Jedi, aided by the loyal, dashing, but regrettably happily married Han Solo, and the loyal, dashing, but single Lando Calrissian venture forth on their sleek, dangerous craft the 'Millennia Hawk' to discover Thrawn's evil place. With them is of course, the dashing Skywalker, and the bold, brave and beautiful Jenna Marrd." The visual began with the sleek, dangerous "Millennia Hawk" gently landing in a forest.

Luke reached over and grabbed the remote. "Wait a minute, how come you're not in this trash?"

Mara snatched the remote back. "I'll explain later, now be quiet and just watch."

The scene then shifted to the interior of the ship, and to a spacious, luxuriously appointed bedroom. "I've never seen a cabin like that on a freighter," Luke said sullenly. Mara shushed him.

A very dark, broad, towering, muscular, swarthy, shirtless man with a full beard stalked about the cabin. "Jenna," he called to the air, "come to me. I am in need of your womanhood." Moments later, the door flew upon and a willowy, pale blonde woman in a nearly transparent gown burst into the room and threw herself into the arms of the giant. "You are so strong through the Force, Master. I heard you and came. Oh Luke . . . take me now . . ."

Luke seized the remote and almost threw it at the screen. "What the hell is this? Is that supposed to be me?" Mara was now clutching her stomach, shaking with laughter. "As soon as you are done with your hysterics, at my expense, would you please explain this outrage?" He was furious, well mostly.

He had to wait because every time Mara tried to speak, she would look at him and start laughing again. After some minutes in delirium, she finally was able to sigh gustily. "That was rich. Your reaction, better than I had even hoped . . ." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "To billions of people, that's Luke Skywalker. The actor, I forget his name. Doesn't matter. He's hugely popular. I mean everyone knows he's not you, but most people think you," and she pointed at the couple in the frozen embrace, "look like that." She began snickering again.

"And where are you in this farce Jenna Marrd?" he asked in a chilly tone.

If it was possible, Mara looked more smug then she did before. "I paid the maker of the series a huge sum to keep my name out of it. I figured it would be bad for business."

"Too bad you couldn't have parted with a few more credits to salvage my reputation as well," he said acidly.

Mara laughed again. "Lighten up Jedi. Have some more wine. Try not to think of it as you, but as some other bizarre sort of alter ego or younger brother."

"That's easy for you to say. You wouldn't be so amused if that was you being summoned for your 'womanhood.'"

Mara tried to affect a sober expression, but her mouth kept twitching. "Seriously, I don't think your reputation has been damaged one bit. Probably helped it," she added slyly. "Really, just don't take it seriously." She started the vid again.

The story progressed rather predictably, particularly since he had lived a version of it. After recovering from the initial mortification, it was easy to enjoy. The acting and writing were terrible, Mara calling it "so bad it's good." She was very familiar with the entire recording. She would shout out bad lines at key moments, freeze the recording periodically to prepare him for some absurdity to come, or to comment upon the characters' sexual prowess or anatomy. He was eventually able to overcome his embarrassment and join her in a ribald running commentary.

They had plenty of targets. The heroes, when they were not wading through freshly slaughtered bodies, were mostly writhing passionately with gorgeous women who regularly popped into the story, had sex with one of the characters and then died a grisly but valiant death. Mara kept shouting at the screen, "Don't do it, he's not worth it, you'll die."

None though compared to the exploits of "Duke," as he and Mara dubbed Luke's "evil twin." Women sprang from everywhere, and he bedded them accordingly, in the most improbable of places: trees, caves, forests, deserts, walkers, in and on X, Y, and A Wings and TIE fighters, under water, in the air, and incredibly, in zero gravity. Jenna was kidnaped by the evil Thrawn (a humanoid in a very unconvincing green breath mask), and died, crucified on the leg of an Imperial walker, only to be resurrected by Duke. She was completely naked for the last half of the serial, and spent a good portion of it chained to a rock terrorized by a mutant Rancor.

After one very outlandish interlude, involving Duke, a brunette, a hologram and a speeder bike, Luke stopped the vid. "Mara, you were on Wayland too, do you remember this much sex?"

"Oh sure, don't you? All I can say is, he'd have to be using the Force to do it that many times a day, and still have the energy to cut down a clone army."

Luke arched an eyebrow. "That's not an application of the Force I've ever needed to call upon." Mara hooted appreciatively.

Duke's Force powers were indeed impressive, and his number of kills very high. Mara said she had tried counting once, and lost track at over 300 dead humans, 187 dead aliens, and one defoliated plant based life form. Although his lightsaber was a useless prop, Duke could lift boulders, fire blasters with astonishing accuracy, withstand fire, flood, mud, and poisonous reptiles. And he did it all without messing his hair.

Somewhere in the tangled tale, the heroes immolated the cloning facility, and then flew off into a dazzling sunset, each with a live woman on his arm, except Duke who had two.

As the credits rolled, Mara stretched and nudged him with her foot. "I love that series. Sorry about the shock."

He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. "Never seen anything like it."

Mara rose and flipped on some music. "I am surprised you hadn't seen it. It's so popular, done wonders for the image of the Jedi."

"I'm not sure I care for that particular image."

Mara shrugged. "I bet you've seen an increase in applications to the Academy." She added mischievously, "Every adolescent thinks becoming a Jedi is a sure fire way to get laid."

"I knew it! So that's why you decided to have advanced training. You just want to be assured a steady stream of copilots."

"Absolutely."

She was tapping her foot to the music, and he turned his ear to catch the rhythm. "What's this?"

"Uhh, traditional dance music from Rhinnal, instrumental with no vocal accompaniment, 12 piece band of metals, keyboards, and acoustics, 3/4 beat. It's called, in Basic anyway, a fling or spree, that's the dance it's done to, not the music. Haven't heard it before?"

"Is this an invitation for another swipe at my rim world parochialism?"

"Nope."

She swept over to him with a glint in her eye Luke was learning to identify as Mara in her impetuous mode. She held out her hand. "It's an invitation to dance."

He allowed her to haul him out the couch, protesting, "Aww, don't you ever let up? Remember, I'm just a farm boy whose spent his entire life in the backwater. I don't know how to dance."

"Oh, and of course you could never learn." She dragged him into the center of the cabin. "It's fun. Besides, you can't be the teacher all the time."

He sighed, arguing with Mara was a fruitless effort.

"Okay, now stand there." She stood in front of him, and looked up, frowning slightly. "You're about the right height."

"I'm not going to do anything about that just to satisfy your whim for a dancing partner."

Mara ignored him, and began positioning his hands, his left one in hers, and his right on her waist. She stopped abruptly and began shaking his left wrist, "Loosen up, I don't bite."

"Oh yeah, that's not what the co pilots say."

"Try to look like you're having fun, Skywalker."

When Luke reflected on it later, he decided it was fun. He had first recognized it primarily as an opportunity for Mara to reverse the roles, and teach him something. For the sake of her temperament and obvious enjoyment, he was willing to humor her. But Mara was a good teacher, patiently explaining and demonstrating basic steps that they could adapt to different music. When at the beginning, he kept crashing into her, Mara lit on the idea of establishing a light mental contact. From the visualizations in her mind, he was able to follow her movements better and the evening passed quickly.

It was when she tried to explain the concept of 'leading' that they called it a night. They kept moving in opposite directions and even the mental rapport was not helping.

Mara stretched and bent over to massage the top of her foot - he had tread upon it one too many times. "I'm having problems keeping the image you're following separate from what I am supposed to do."

He yawned. "Do you always work this hard on a trading run?"

She wandered over to the computer console near the table. "Just making you earn your keep."

He followed her, and looked over her shoulder at the display.

"We should be dropping out of hyperspace tomorrow morning for that first course correction, right?"

She punched some numbers and they both examined the read out. "Yeah, about 0900." She looked up at him. "All in all, you're not a bad a copilot. You can drink, dance and fly. I don't think I'll dump you on Rekweg tomorrow after all."

"Thanks for the ringing endorsement Cap'n. I'm turning in." He paused, not quite willing to let her go unscathed. "Unless, you care to ahh, 'rest' in my bunk, or ah maybe help me find the 'floor'?"

To his astonishment and infinite amusement, Mara actually stammered and blushed. "Uhhh, no thanks." Her embarrassment was short lived. "I can still leave you on Rekweg."

"Oh sure, and then how would you get through that asteroid belt? Good night Dancing Queen." Luke ambled off to bed, thoroughly pleased that he managed to rattle Mara.

* * *

_**Chapter 3, Ruffled Feathers** next_  
_In which Luke recounts the worse day of his life, Mara has the worse day of her life and meets her evil twin, Luke discloses that he is a leg man, and Luke and Mara make a call to a 900 number._

_Mara's look of utter amazement was worth the banged knee as he wrestled her down. For Luke it was very gratifying. He pinned her to the deck with one hand and a foot and then examined his catch, blanketed in bits of pillow filler. "I kinda like you like this Mara, flat on your back and covered with white fuzz. Too bad you're not wet, too." _


	3. Chapter 3 Ruffled Feathers

**STUFF**

**CHAPTER 3  
****_RUFFLED FEATHERS_**

_In which Luke recounts the worse day of his life, Mara has the worse day of her life and meets her evil twin, Luke discloses that he is a leg man, and Luke and Mara make a call to a 900 number.  
_

_"I kinda like you like this Mara, flat on your back and covered with white fuzz. Too bad you're not wet, too."  
_

_In honor of the serial's locale, Mara and Luke broke open another bottle of Corellian brandy, and began swigging each time Duke or Tara killed someone or had sex, and two swigs if the partner died_.

_

* * *

_Luke's good humor persisted into the next morning. He was up, about, banging around in the cabin and into his second cup before Mara emerged, still yawning. She was able only to grunt a greeting. He handed her a hot cup. Mara held the cup to her forehead, eyes closed, absorbing the warmth and aroma. Just to annoy her, Luke injected as much cheer and vigor into his greeting as he could.

Mara's response was another grunt, and "I am not a morning person."

Luke thought he had discovered a new hobby, which he had privately dubbed Mara baiting. "Well I'm enjoying a little revenge at your expense. The day's wasting away. By the way, did Palpatine wake you? He was just here..."

Mara almost dropped her cup before comprehending it was his twisted idea of a malicious joke. "Two heart attacks two mornings in a row," she mumbled. "Don't tempt me Skywalker, I can still dump you somewhere."

In the interests of self-preservation, Luke decided to leave the grouch alone for a few minutes and went to check on Artoo. The droid had secreted himself in a corner, next to one of the Fire's access terminals. Luke figured Artoo had probably established a really good "relationship" with the ship's computer by now. Artoo called up the ship's inventory on a terminal, scrolling on the screen that the computer was nothing like the one aboard the _Millennium Falcon_: the _Jade's Fire_ computer was intelligible, efficient, well organized and very polite.

Luke spent a few minutes studying the detailed list of fish eggs, sparkling wines, spirits, preserved and fermented fruits and sweets, jewelry, furniture, embroidered and besequined cloth, and other strange items familiar only to the very rich. The computer helpfully offered extensive cross references for each item: acquisition cost, date of acquisition, method of payment, supplier, overhead costs to carry and ship, identification of carton and location in hold, historical pricing on Verrat, past buyers, potential buyers, estimated seasonal demand, historical profit margins, and information on any advance sales. Luke was amused and impressed seeing, really for the first time, evidence of Mara Jade Master Trader.

The computer interrupted his perusal with a persistent beeping, heralding the approach of 0900.

"Are you among the living, conscious and polite yet? We're ready to drop out of hyperspace for that course correction."

Mara was already up and headed forward. "Let's go."

He joined her in the cockpit. Mara began a systems check. In the highly unlikely event anything was out here, they did not want to be stuck with inoperable shields or cannons that would not fire.

"Ready?"

She paused and looked over the readouts. "Everything looks okay."

As the chron on the navicomputer ran down, Luke disengaged the hyperdrive control, and the lines faded to stars in front of them.

"Rekweg on schedule." Mara was checking the long range sensors, while Luke ran a quick check on the hyperdrive and programmed the navicomputer to confirm their coordinates.

"Anything?"

Mara shook her head. "Nope. No ships, no supernovas, no uncharted comets, wormholes, black holes or any other kinda holes." She yawned. "Nice and boring."

He consulted the nav readings "We are smack where we should be. Rekweg, the middle of nowhere."

They both looked up and out through the view screen as the ship slowly drifted through the nothingness.

Mara spoke first. "When you can go so quickly from one place to another, you forget how big it really is out here."

"If you got stuck, you might never get back."

They were both silent, each absorbed in private thoughts. Mara eventually broke the stillness. "That's where I found you."

He swung to look at her, trying to follow her non-sequitur. She was staring vacantly into the glittering darkness. "Oh, you mean that first time, when I was out here with the cracked hyperdrive."

Mara continued to gaze ahead. "Uh huh. I was piloting the _Wild Karrde_. In those days, every time I left Myrkr, the Force would start coming back to me, in flashes; an insight, a premonition, a conversation or a thought I wasn't supposed to hear, and then the nightmares would start. We were headed back to Myrkr, and something just came to me, stop here. Nothing scheduled, nothing planned, just stop. As soon as we dropped out of hyperspace, all our proximity alarms went off. But I saw that X-wing floating there, and I knew." She shook off the image.

Luke confessed slowly, "I had a vision of you once. Right before you found me."

Mara started in surprise. "Really? But you didn't recognize me on Myrkr?"

"I didn't connect you and the vision until you told me about waiting to kill me at Jabba's. The image was just of a woman on Jabba's sail barge, someone who was able to direct the Force, and keep me from reaching my lightsaber." He paused then, soberly, chose to finish the tale. "If you'd been there, we would have all died."

They continued to stare ahead into the stars of Rekweg. The subject prompted Luke to ask something he had wondered about in the last day or two. "Any regrets, Mara?"

" 'Bout what?"

"You know what I mean. Tatooine, not being on Jabba's barge."

"Aren't we one for small talk?"

"I was just curious. You said yesterday I'd been messing up your life for years. Ever still wish you'd just gotten the job done back then, or on Myrkr?"

"Depends on my mood. Another aside, like the one this morning about Palpatine, and yeah, I could still kill you without any regrets."

"Seriously, though?"

"I was serious."

"It's a straightforward question."

She sighed, now exasperated with him. "I dunno. I haven't thought about it in a long time. Probably not."

"Probably? Maybe I should still be watching my back around you." He was only half joking.

Mara seemed almost repentant at that ill choice of words. "That isn't what I meant," she protested. "It's more just, comparing how my life was then to how it is now. I was important, powerful, I had influence, a secret knowledge. And those who knew who and what I was were afraid of me. Now..." her voice trailed off. He waited for her to finish.

"Now, I think I'm happier. I love trading, I love the money, the freedom." He thought again, Mara and her strange priorities. She continued, "And I know now that Palpatine manipulated me; I didn't know that then."

"What do you mean?"

He could feel her puzzlement at his question. "I'd always thought that Palpatine wanted me to kill you because he had foreseen that you and Vader could bring him down. He thought he could cheat fate if you were dead. But I didn't know that Vader was your father until we were on Wayland."

Luke was really surprised by that. "You didn't? It wasn't exactly a secret."

"It wasn't exactly publicized either: two of the New Republic's greatest heroes offspring of the Rebellion's greatest enemy?"

"I suppose."

"But it was on Wayland, on top of everything else from that trip, that I realized Palpatine had been using me to punish Vader. If I was going to kill you, it had to be for my reasons, not his. I still didn't like you much, but that didn't seem to be a good enough reason to kill you."

Although he was relieved with her use of the past tense, it was still disconcerting how causally she spoke of his death. Mara was gently pushing her chair back and forth, fingering the hyperdrive control, deliberately avoiding eye contact. He could feel a curiosity, an unasked question.

"What?"

"Well, I'd always wondered, how did you find out about Vader, I mean that you were his son? You don't have to say, but..." she faltered, and the question died away.

It had been so long, the pain of those ghastly realizations had faded, but remained strong for Luke. "No, I don't mind talking about it," was his mostly truthful response. "Vader told me, on Bespin." He stared at his artificial limb. "Right after he had sliced off my right hand."

Mara's face contorted in wordless horror.

"It was the worst moment of my entire life. And, the closest I had ever come to turning to the Dark Side." He paused, realizing that the memories were not buried as deeply as he had thought. "Ben Kenobi had told me that Vader had murdered my father. So it wasn't just the shock that I was his son, it was also that Ben had lied about it."

He could feel Mara tingling with anger, "Why didn't he tell you the truth?"

Even after all this time, Luke wasn't sure that he accepted the explanation Yoda and Ben had given him. "He thought that I wouldn't be able to bear the burden, that I would go running after Vader, and end up falling to the Dark Side."

He sighed. "But that's almost what happened anyway. Vader offered me a choice, join him or die. I opted to throw myself down the core shaft of the Bespin mine. I was hanging on the rungs below the city. Leia found me. If she hadn't gotten me out of there, I think I might have turned."

They sat in silence. Luke sensed Mara knew what the revelations were costing him. Unfortunately, in trying to steer to a safer subject, she unwittingly touched another nerve. "I can see why you and your sister have always been so close."

Mara was certainly hitting the low, albeit distant, points of his life. "We didn't even know we were related. You knew we had been separated when we were born, to hide us from Vader?"

She nodded.

"Ben took me to Tatooine to hide me, and Bail Organa adopted Leia. It all started when Bail sent Leia to Tatooine to bring Ben to Alderaan. We figure it was their understanding that Ben would bring me too, introduce me to my long lost sister, begin my training. But of course, Leia got the Death Star plans, loaded them into Artoo and programmed him to find Ben. Ben gets this holo message from Leia, she's been captured by her own father, I'm sitting there, playing with our father's lightsaber, and Ben is the only one who recognizes the paradoxes."

Mara's eyes were wide. "Ben didn't tell you then?"

"No, just one more fact he omitted. I'm sure he meant to, or Bail would've told Leia. But," and his voice was bleak, "they both died so suddenly. And anyone with any memory of the truth died on Alderaan."

"So all the farm boy from Tatooine knows is that there's a royal Alderaani princess begging for help," Mara said softly. "It must have been a confusing time."

He glanced at Mara, wondering at her perceptive choice of words, and if she guessed just how confusing it had been.

"It was. I..." his voice trailed off, embarrassed at the recollection of these very awkward memories. "Well, there's always been a connection between us, uhh, ..."

Mara turned away, the implication was dreadful enough. She hastily attempted to block the looming confession, to prevent what had been unsaid from becoming manifest, but he plunged ahead. "At the time, I may have misunderstood the nature of that connection."

There was a very still, uncomfortable silence between them. From Mara he could feel sympathy mingled with distaste and quickly attempted to correct her misapprehension.

"Really, it wasn't that big an issue. Ben appeared to me before Endor, and told me that Leia was my sister. I told her the whole story; when I did, she said, that somehow, she had known all along that I was her brother."

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I, well if I had known I would've never said anything."

He had been prepared to congratulate her for so successfully raising the most wretched moments in his life, but her seemingly genuine remorse and discomfort stayed his retort. He offered quietly, "I've lived with all of this for a long time. It's not as if I dwell on it, or even think about it anymore, but I've never really told anyone before."

Although he had intended this consolation to assuage her, it had precisely the opposite effect. Mara pretended to adjust controls on the panel before her, struggling to quell her rising agitation. "There are some things I'm happier not knowing about people," she finally muttered.

Luke looked at Mara for a long moment. If his admission to her had come at a personal price to himself, the toll it exacted from her was far greater. She was mistaken if she thought she could maintain her emotional distance by selectively ignoring in the lives of others what was awkward or uncomfortable for her. Thinking of her ordered computer and hold, Luke thought that maybe Mara needed to learn that unlike other parts of her life, she could not always dictate the terms of her friendship with him. Her sudden jerk told him that she had indeed heard this gentle, but unwarranted, remonstrance.

He glanced away, bracing for the retort that never came. The controlled Mara swiftly returned. "Nav's already got the coordinates." She entered the commands for another obscure system. "Next stop, Tazakil," she said, reaching for the levers, with a sideways smirk. "This time, I'll do the honors, unless you wanna fight over 'em."

He laughed. "Whoever wins the next round, gets to make the next jump." And the ship jumped.

They fell into a routine the remaining days and nights, such as they are on a hyperspace jump. Luke would always awaken first, start the tea, and wait for Mara to emerge. After one particularly irrational and raucous morning, he learned to give her a wide berth.

Surly did not begin to describe Mara before she had a least one cup. Raving bitch lunatic was a more apt description. In the interest of self preservation, he stopped even Mara baiting until she had been properly fortified.

The morning hours would be devoted to her training. The afternoon, intense and bruising lightsaber duels. The evenings they spent with the bad vid recordings, slightly better wine and dancing lessons. Her training and their duels were, on the whole, more successful than his dancing. It was not that he was that bad, she was just that good.

Their frustration with Palpatine's ravages upon her mind persisted. What Palpatine had altered versus what he had left intact was illuminating. Any ability at prophecy, to reach other planes, or even to simply project ahead into various future paths was lost and seemed irretrievable. Luke was able to show her how to tap into her short and long term recall; they could not even find the stimulus for summoning deep memory. It was as if Palpatine erased every recollection of who she had been and from where she had come. Only a dim emotional residue remained of her family, her home.

It also became clear to them that Palpatine had modified her innate abilities in very utilitarian ways. Her survival skills were formidable. In self-diagnosis, trances to slow her metabolic processes, breathing, heart rate, temperature, she equaled his own abilities. And in long range communications, telepathy, even simple eavesdropping, she had much to teach him.

Their twelfth day out of Yavin started with the drop into the Tazakil system. As they set their final course for Verrat, Mara had the privilege of making the jump, having beaten him the day before. Her remote tuned reflexes had long since disappeared. In that match, she had been able to use his greater reach to her advantage; rather than allowing him to drive her back, she stood her ground, and began a counter, forcing him into an awkward defense. He had to choose between damaging the walls of the cabin, or yielding. His shoulder still ached from the wrenching when she trapped his blade and sent it flying.

They had also devoted many hours in split concentration exercises. The instruction had led to some hilarious results. Mara likened it to learning to talk and walk at the same time. She first began with simply levitating two credit chips in front of her, and then gradually, moving them further and further apart, until she had one behind her, and one in front. The exercise taught her to use her awareness of other objects in the Force as both a cone and as an orbit. Then, while she tossed balls with one hand, he would direct small light objects at her from the rear. After many peltings, to his regret, Mara's proficiency improved and she was able to catch them, and lob them back. She had graduated to using her lightsaber against a remote on a low setting, and simultaneously slicing through the ration packs and balls he leveled at her.

It was during this exercise that Mara abruptly stopped and closed down her saber. He had been aiming a pillow at her back, and she reacted just quickly enough to whirl and grab it. She held up a warning hand, her face furrowed in concentration.

"What?"

"It's..." he could feel her tense with concentration. "It's your sister. She's trying to reach you."

Luke was astounded. He hadn't even noticed the light sensation tugging at his awareness, but as he focused more deeply into the Force found, very faintly, Leia's unique searching imprint.

"I can barely feel her."

Mara's eyes were glazed with concentration. "She's worried, and wants to know if you're alright."

"Can you tell her where I am?"

Mara shook her head. "She's not looking for my presence. I don't think she would recognize it." Mara blinked and focused her eyes on him. "I'm sure I could boost your awareness with her though, if you let me."

He was suddenly wary, realizing that although he and Mara had thoroughly explored her Force awareness, the rapport that had grown between them had not required much openness on his part. Their link permitted a sharing of some thought and strong emotional reactions; he had carefully and deliberately walled off exposing anything deeper or more personal. He could feel her growing irritated with his reluctance and tried futilely to avert the inevitable explosion. "I don't know if I should do that..."

Her reaction was predictably biting. "Fine, go ahead, try and reach her on your own if you can't trust me that far."

"That's not it. It's nothing personal, Mara..."

She snapped. "Oh it isn't? What is it then, afraid I'll overhear a conversation with your sister?" A thousand, more hurtful things flashed between them, but Mara stopped. Her more measured response thoroughly ashamed him. "Who's the one dictating terms now?"

Stung by her just pique, Luke made a quick decision. He crossed the cabin to their customary perch for mental work and gestured for her to sit next to him on the couch.

"You're right. It's not fair, and I'm being irrational."

Still quivering with anger, Mara was not prepared for this sudden assent. She stared at him then queried slowly, "Are you sure?" He nodded.

She walked over, and sat, facing him. In the past few days, Mara would then incline her head slightly, and he would touch her temples, the slight physical contact supporting their mental link. This time, though, their roles reversed. As he ducked his head, he could feel her hesitation and realized that Mara was as unsure as he was. This was new for her as well.

Her feathery touch was like a burn. As her awareness began swirling into him, he reflexively, shut it out. In his mind, he heard her more clearly than if she had spoken. "So, I'm not the only one with barriers." He could feel her Force presence move within him, first hesitantly, and then with more confidence as she explored the unfamiliar terrain.

Her Force sense shifted slightly, and poised at a particular place in his awareness, like a bird fluttering before coming to rest. "Here," she said in his mind. "This is how we can find your sister, but you have to let me in." She waited and, slowly, he parted the curtain.

"Now, try to find Leia." As he sought his sister in the Force, he could feel Mara amplify and reinforce his call, making it clearer and stronger.

Suddenly, he heard her, "Luke! Where are you? Are you all right?"

He heard Mara's amused, private reaction. "Better not tell her you're with me. She'll send Rogue Squad after us."

He tried to keep from laughing. "I'm fine, Leia."

"I haven't been able to hear you. We've been so worried. Luke, I'm very sorry..." Leia's words, thoughts and emotions were jumbled, coming out in a rush.

He tried to soothe her. "Really, I'm fine. Han told you, didn't he? I'm with Mara, we're heading to Verrat to check out that NRI report."

Knowing Mara was attuned to their discussion, he was embarrassed at Leia's cool response. "He shouldn't have gotten her involved. He should have asked me first."

"Really Leia, it's fine. We'll be gone for a couple weeks, and then I'll come to Coruscant and see you. I'm sorry I've been shutting you off, I just needed some time by myself."

He could feel Leia's indecision, resignation and then suspicious curiosity. "I've never heard you this clearly before, what's going on?"

On this, he thought Mara was right. It was better if he did not try to explain. "It's something new I've learned."

As he knew she would be, Leia was amused. "Oh, so the Master has become a student?"

"Something like that. Take care Leia, give my love to the kids. Tell Han thanks."

As his sister's warm presence slowly faded, Mara withdrew and, suddenly, he was alone again. The simultaneous loss of both was a sharp pang; something within him leaped out, desperately trying to ward off that awful void.

Mara started and jerked her hands back. "I, uhh," She hurriedly stumbled to her feet, fleeing. "I haven't done that in a long time, since Palpatine. I'd forgotten how intense it can be."

Still reeling himself, he quickly lowered his own Force awareness to bring the heightened sensitivity between them under control. "I haven't had that kind of rapport for a while either."

Mara began pacing again, restless, suddenly shy. "It worked though, didn't it?"

He rubbed his eyes, thinking it might relieve the tension in his mind. "You shouldn't be surprised. You're very gifted in this area; Palpatine wouldn't have used you if you hadn't been. And with the work, our link is definitely stronger."

That, he thought is a wild understatement; the ease and power of their connection through the Force was as strong as almost anything he had ever experienced before.

Mara continued pacing. "I guess what surprises me is that the ability didn't die with Palpatine."

It was an interesting insight. "Maybe your skill lies in reaching and amplifying a connection with other Force users, and that skill survived him." He paused, and then asked slowly, afraid of her answer, "Is the connection at least different now?"

Mara stopped pacing, and gazed at him levelly. "If it wasn't, I'd kill you without compunction." Her matter of fact tone betrayed no humor or sarcasm.

She broke off the stand-off, lowering her eyes to concentrate on grinding her foot into the deck. "Thanks, I mean for letting me in like that. I didn't think you would."

He tried to be nonchalant about it. "Well, you were right. We've been going through your awareness the last couple days. I didn't really have a good reason to say no."

She shrugged. "If you say so," then looked up. "I had just thought that the bigger problem would be control; that you'd be afraid that you might lose that control if you let down some of those barriers."

Mara's keen gaze made him fidget. He cursed himself silently; was he really that transparent to her? "Well, I couldn't have reached Leia otherwise. Thanks for helping."

Luke had not responded to her implicit question, but Mara had made her point. She grinned at him. "I told you not to tell her you were with me. She'll be more worried now than she was before."

He protested this characterization of his sister. "Mara, she's not like that."

"Oh yeah, well, you can be the one to convince Antilles that I don't have a blaster to your head when he and the Rogues drop out of hyperspace around Verrat."

The image was a comical one, but not entirely out of the question. "That's true. No one would go on a hyperspace jump to the Outer Rim with you unless he was kidnaped."

"Or well paid."

"Back to copilots again, are we?"

"I don't have to pay them," she winked for his benefit. "They usually find other compensations."

"Well, then Mara, I demand in kind payment."

"Ha! Keep dreaming, Skywalker. If your sister thought there was even a remote possibility of _that_ going on, she'd send the entire New Republic Navy after me."

He had to laugh at that absurdity. "Oh sure, NRI commandos boarding your ship to rescue me from Mara Jade. I'd love to hear the briefing for that mission. 'Troops, we expect to acquire target chained to Captain Jade's bed.' "

She gave a mock shudder and a "Blechhh."

"Seriously, she knew I was with you. Han told her."

"Solo hadn't told her when he dialed me up, and asked me to swing by Yavin."

Luke was confused. "But you were already on your way there."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, you didn't tell Han you were going there anyway?"

She snorted at his obtuseness. "Of course not."

Luke had to laugh at her self-satisfaction "So now Han thinks he owes you a big favor."

She grinned, thoroughly pleased with herself, "And maybe the Chief of State too, if I deliver you to Coruscant happy, healthy and with a girlfriend in tow."

He stared at that slim, smug figure before him. Her audacity was outrageous, assured competence and control constantly at war with unpredictability. She awakened a sense of fun in him. The urge to bring a little chaos to her ordered existence was a compelling one, to do something to dishevel her tidy form. Half the game was figuring out what the buttons were, the other half was pushing them to see what would happen. He was startled to recognize a sliver of another emotion within himself, one that he had not felt for Mara before. He stifled it abruptly, and as cover, quickly aimed a pillow at her. Even as it hit her full in the face, she sent one sailing back at him.

The play degenerated rapidly; Force directed objects were very accurate missiles. After hurling and ducking at pillows and cushions, Mara retreated behind the table, broke into the supply closet and began firing its lighter contents at him, ration bars, a sabbac deck, inactivated remotes, and several rubber balls. When she flung another cushion, he ignited his lightsaber, split the cushion in two, and then directed the shower of burnt, fluffy filling behind the table. Upon hearing sputtering curses as the white cloud enveloped her, he dropped his saber, leaped over the table, and tackled her before she could reload from her weapons cache.

Mara's look of utter amazement was worth the banged knee as he wrestled her down. For Luke it was very gratifying. He pinned her to the deck with one hand and a foot and then examined his catch, blanketed in bits of pillow filler. "I kinda like you like this Mara, flat on your back and covered with white fuzz. Too bad you're not wet, too."

She struggled briefly, but not all that hard. "That's one weird fantasy, farm boy." She squirmed in a way that was so appealing to him it was not likely to result in her immediate release. "Let me go."

"Not if you keep doing that."

Abashed, she stopped moving, and repeated, "Let me go."

"Why?" He touched her face to brush aside burnt lint and hair.

"Do that again and I'll break your arm," she muttered.

"Really?"

"Try me."

"I don't believe you."

He could feel a Force movement as she searched in the closet for something else to lob at him. He reached out to halt an advancing med pac aimed at his stopped in mid air, hanging ludicrously. "I can split my attention too." Luke concentrated on pushing silky red hair back from her eyes and keeping the med pac at bay. "Okay, I'll let you go, if you promise not to fling any more pillows, balls, remotes or med pacs at me."

Even as she nodded slowly in acquiescence, he felt a gas mask begin to snake its way out of the closet. He tightened his grasp on her slightly, and gently blew fluff out of her hair.

Green eyes glared a challenge at him. "You didn't say anything about masks."

"Well, them too." As he felt her hold on the med pac and mask loosen, he released her.

When Mara rolled to her feet, Luke burst out laughing. "You look like you've been feathered in an avian ritual and left in a snow bank." She afforded him a venomous scowl, but offered a hand to pull him to his feet.

He should have gotten up unaided. She spun him in front of her, whipped his hand behind his back, and snapped him into a vicious arm lock. "See," she whispered in his ear, "I told you I could break your arm."

He winced slightly; Mara had a rigid grip. "I never said you couldn't," he replied affably. "Just that you wouldn't. Besides," he whispered, "that's my artificial arm."

She flung his arm down in disgust, "Jedi."

For some reason, Mara just didn't look very threatening covered with white, burned down. She pulled her hair back, and surveyed the snowy mess in the cabin. He could feel her use a quick calming regimen. Now which particular emotions had triggered her perceived need for that response was intriguing.

"Since this is your doing, you can clean it up. I'm going to try to clean up."

As she turned to walk primly down the corridor to her cabin, he could not resist another swipe. "Hey, why don't you clean up the cabin; then I'll clean you up."

She did not so much as glance at him, but then he didn't really expect her to. Thinking that perhaps he had taken Mara baiting a little too far, and feeling slightly repentant for the escapade, Luke was more than willing to both clean up the lint and start dinner.

* * *

Mara was thoroughly disgusted. At him, at herself, and especially at the white stuff in her hair and clothes. She stalked around her cabin, pulling off her flight suit, found a comb and began yanking the fluff out of her hair.

She was a veteran of enough hyperspace jumps with randy young men to recognize these symptoms. With the confinement and close quarters, episodes like this one were not uncommon. Sometimes she welcomed the attentions, and the sex was usually pretty good. Problem was, she had not expected to have to contend with it on this trip. With other co-pilots, she'd always just dumped them off somewhere when it inevitably didn't work out. If she pulled the same stunt, and deposited Skywalker on some icy block of rock to cool his engines, the Chief of State really would call out the troops to chase her across the galaxy. And _that_ would be _very_ bad for business.

Mara had an easier time dealing with Skywalker when he was depressed or when he was pulling that mighty Jedi Master, I am above the fray crap. They both knew the rules under those circumstances; she was the loyal, understanding, pitying friend in the first instance, and treated him with contempt and sarcasm when he recovered and lapsed again into the latter role with his detestable passivity.

But the person she had come to know on this jump was more unfamiliar to her, more impulsive, more fun, less contained, and infinitely more dangerous. More like the reckless teen who could blow up a Death Star with a prayer and some luck, fall in love with his own sister, and who, in his rush to challenge Darth Vader, was fortunate to escape with only a missing hand. It had been many years since she had seen the man she had once grudgingly admired: the one who took down a troop carrier with just a lightsaber and who without a second thought, broke into a Star Destroyer to help her free Karrde.

Mara had long assumed that regardless of the role he played, she had control of the relationship. Even when he was in "master" mode, she had always exercised her option to disappoint his expectations. She realized now that her assessment had not been accurate. Except in the last three weeks since Callista, he had chosen which of his feelings and thoughts to reveal to her, the remainder shrouded in that damnable Jedi impenetrability.

He had been at her for years to drop her barriers, and open herself more fully to the Force. If he had thought that when she did so he would stay in the Master role, it was a gamble he had lost. It was ironic; her refusal to be the student to his Master, had in the end, merely perpetuated him in that role. In lowering her guard, she had forced him to peel away his own formidable defenses and expose the person beneath.

She thought again about 'dictating terms' and concluded that was what this was really all about. It wasn't about sex or love, or that great divide between the two, it was about control and power - who would wield it, who would yield, and the price the loser would pay for showing any vulnerability. And Mara knew how to play that game.

Sufficiently delinted, Mara pulled on a clean flight suit. She heard him query, "Snow Queen, are you ready for dinner or do I need to come and pluck more of your feathers?"

She afforded him a tremendous mental "HA!"

"What do you want to drink?" came a more courteous question.

"Something strong if I'm gonna make it to Verrat without sending you out with the garbage." Mara headed forward.

* * *

When she entered the cabin, Skywalker had already set the food out in front of the vid and poured out two glasses of some murky wine. He was grinning like a madman.

"What?" She was instantly suspicious, "Have you slipped a trank into my food?"

His brief calming made her even more wary. "You're a lousy liar, Skywalker, what's going on?"

He affected _an oh_ so innocent blue gaze that she didn't buy for a minute. "Nothing. I didn't drug your food, although I should have thought of that sooner. Anything to improve your temperament."

They sank into the couch, a respectful distance, the vid remote and a bottle between them. She stirred her food a little wearily. What had been pretty good twelve days ago was starting to get tedious. "I'll be glad to get off ship's rations and eat some fresh food."

"Good thing we didn't run into a real emergency with all the ration packs you've been slicing apart."

She swirled the pinkish wine in her glass before taking a sip. "I'll need to replenish both the packs and my liquor cabinet. The Verratan wine is cheap and pretty good."

"I've had some time to look over your inventory, and some of your data on the products. I'd like to talk with you about it before we land, and get more background on the place."

Mara nodded, slightly impressed that he would exert himself that far. "We also need to go over that NRI report. And we need to plot out how were going to negotiate the asteroid belt. Should we do that tonight?"

"We could, although we have all day tomorrow. We won't drop out into Verratan space, until what, morning, day after tomorrow? At least in our time."

"We're headed to Tirgu Muresh. It's the biggest city and the seat of the planetary authority, such as it is there. I haven't done a chron compare but we'll probably get in about mid-morning local time. That shouldn't be too bad. I hate those hyperspace lags when you come in in the middle of your night or their's. I'm always wide awake or fast asleep the first day." Mara knew he was plotting something, "So..?"

"So what?"

"So what have you been planning in that beady brain of yours?"

"Nothing. Mara, would I hide anything from you?"

"In a second, if you could." His attempt to appear casual was comical; he was eagerly anticipating something he knew she wasn't going to like.

"It's just that I found another of the 'Jedi' tapes, one we haven't seen yet. It's about Corelllia, something like 'Showdown at Centerpoint Station.' If we had time, I wanted to see it."

"I picked it up right before I left for Yavin." Skywalker must be recovering if he was prepared to watch a vid that might depict Gaeriel. She sent that thought over to him, but he shook his head, serious for a moment. "I don't think the Barkurans are even in it." Then the mischief was back. "Really, Mara, I think you'll love it."

_Uh oh_. That did not sound promising. "You want to see another episode of that space opera? You last referred to it as 'wretched melodramatic trash' as I recall."

"We're all entitled to some trash in our lives."

"In _my life_, sure. I just never thought it was of much interest to you."

He just kept grinning.

She wondered if maybe she had needed to renew her extortionate contract with the producer, but no, it was not supposed to expire for another year, or an additional five productions, which, ever came first. So what was up?

"Well, let her rip, Skywalker."

The vid began predictably enough, although with some changes. They decided that the producer had opted for discretion rather than sheer entertainment, for the depiction of the Chief of State was modest and the Solo children were absent entirely. Nor was Tendra Rissant present, leading them to conclude that she or Lando had probably paid off the producer as well.

"Hunk" as they had dubbed the Han character was duly kidnaped, first by Thracken, and then by the Selonians, humans dressed in white furry costumes, appearing in such drivel being beneath the dignity of that stately race. The interesting twist was that both "Duke" and Leia were trapped by the Triad or the Human League, it wasn't clear who, in the remnants of Corona House. To their relief, Duke's incarceration did not diminish his ability to find women.

Then, the unthinkable. The story moved from Corellia to a spanking, bright red ship. Mara felt her heart turn over in her chest. Skywalker began snickering. To her horror, and his infinite amusement, a tall woman of voluptuous, Dathomiran proportions, with shockingly red hair stalked onto the screen. Skywalker broke into peals of laughter. "Mara, look, they even got your hair right. But I've never seen you in that flight suit before."

He was absolutely hysterical. Mara gave him a shove and he rolled onto the deck, still laughing. She seized the remote and halted the affront.

"That-" and Mara launched into a string of profound expletives. "He broke our contract. I'll ruin him, sue him before the Trader Tribunal for every lousy credit he has ever, or will ever earn, and then I'll kill him."

Skywalker still gasping from his hilarity, picked himself up from off the deck. She afforded him a contemptuous glare. "How'd you know?"

He was still snickering, his face as red as the hair of the "other" Mara. "I looked at the credits while you defeathered yourself."

"Well, you've certainly had fun at my expense today."

"As you said to me, Mara, have some more wine, lighten up, and think of her as an evil twin."

"You were just slandered, Skywalker. I've been cheated."

"So, what bothers you most? That billions think you have such interesting taste in clothing," he pointed to the towering redhead. "That they assume you have to dye your hair to get it that color, or that someone ripped you off?"

Mara tried to steel her expression into one of intense disgust but did not quite succeed; the on screen Mara was such an inviting self parody. The clothing, and the body who bore it were provocative.

"Mara" had poured herself into black leather; her black, spiked heel boots came up over her knees. But what was really amazing was how she, the actress, filled out the suit. The neckline plunged almost to the waist, revealing copious amounts of rounded flesh.

Mara took a long drink, eyed the giantess and then peered down the front of her modest flight suit. "Well, now I know where my breasts went. My evil twin got all of them." Her self- deprecation sent Luke over the edge again.

Skywalker ogled the vid appropriately. "What I want to know is where you put your blaster."

"It's on my belt, next to the whip."

And so it went. All things considered, Mara didn't mind the portrayal of herself too much. The producer, perhaps fearing her wrath, had equipped her with some really great toys: blasters of all sorts of shapes, sizes and firing power, detonators, armor, bowcasters, walkers, speeders, and everything in between. It was an arms trader's dream. And the "Jade's Blaze" was a terrific ship - even with her good living, Mara knew she could never afford a craft with that kind of sophisticated weaponry.

She bore with fortitude Skywalker's ongoing commentary on _Tara's_ voracious sexual appetites. At least the producer had been fair minded; Tara bedded almost as many as Duke. And Tara's tastes did not reflect too badly upon her namesake; the men were very good looking and some even survived. Tara, however, was forced to kill several of her suitors, throttling one with her whip, blowing one away with a pocket blaster as small as a comm link, and smashing the skull of another with a wine bottle when they all turned out to be spies of the Triad or Human League.

Ostensibly, Tara was trying to reach Corellia to rescue Duke and Leia. It took a while for her to get there, what with having to have sex with and kill so many men. In honor of the serial's locale, Mara and Luke broke open another bottle of Corellian brandy, and began swigging each time Duke or Tara killed someone or had sex, and two swigs if the partner died.

Tara finally made it to Coronet and the rescue began. In one point of accuracy, Tara did have to repel down the wall of Corona House and swing through a few windows in her search for Duke and Leia. Skywalker's skepticism changed to more appropriate respect after Mara described that she and Leia really had climbed down the Palace walls in a driving rain storm to escape, and jumped onto the hovering ship from a 15th story window.

But as Tara's rescue and her reunion with Duke loomed closer, a sinking pit grew in Mara's gut. She dreaded where the story was going, and Skywalker, judging from his own more subdued reactions, was sharing the same anxiety. What would happen when Duke and Tara met, and were subject to the whims of this crass production? It was one thing to chortle at the exploits of their evil twins, it was entirely another for the two of them to watch their evil twins passionately writhing with each other.

"Uh, maybe one of us should be prepared to shut this thing off," murmured a flustered Luke.

Mara heartily agreed. "Yeah. This could get a little stranger than it already is." She gingerly held the remote at the ready.

Tara swung through another window, cut down a guard and crashed through the door of Duke's cell. Duke almost wiped her out with a metal bar he had pried from the window before recognizing his friend. As they embraced, Mara grabbed the remote prepared to stop the recording, but... nothing happened.

Tara: "Are you all right?"

Duke: "Yes thank you, you are very brave and always look great in leather. There is so much I wish to tell you."

Tara: "I too have much to share. Someday we must choose our destiny."

Duke: "Yes. After we rescue Leia and Han and destroy the evil Triad, and save billions from their dreadful repulsor weapon. Perhaps then we can decide."

Mara was so astounded she froze the recording anyway. "Is that it?"

Luke was similarly amazed. "I don't believe it." Their apprehension of viewing a potentially uncomfortable scenario dissolved into outrage at the fact that it had been denied to them. Mara began forwarding the recording, and at high speed, Duke and Tara slaughtered a dozen or more members of the Human League, rescued Leia, swung through some more windows, and blasted out of Corellia with some Uglies in hot pursuit.

Skywalker took another gulp of the Corellian, suffused with mock indignation. "So, what Mara, wasn't I good enough for you after the last thirty? Or should I have tried to kill you first?"

"What do you mean, you not good enough for me, wasn't I good enough for you, or weren't my breasts big enough?"

"Hey, I'm not responsible for Duke's lack of taste, I'm a leg man." A holo number flashed on the screen, Skywalker grabbed the remote, "Wait, stop the vid, what are they saying?"

"... and so the producers at Jedi Productions want to hear from you, our loyal viewers. The next episode of Showdown at Centerpoint Station will air in three standard weeks. You've followed the adventures of Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade. Has the Force destined them for each other? We want to know what you think. Call this number 1 900-123-45JEDI and tell us whether Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker are right for each other. Calls are being taken now. 50 credits for the first minute, and 20 credits for each minute thereafter. Use your holo tran calling card. You may also send sublight messages or post on the interstellar JEDI Board. The future of Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker depends on you."

Luke grabbed her arm. "We've got to call."

"To the holo!"

They headed to the cockpit, plunking down in their respective chairs, the Corellian still between them, glasses long since abandoned. They both stared at the transmitter, as Mara said, "So, what are we going to say?"

"I dunno. Problem is, if you sleep with me, you'll probably die. That's what's happened to all the others."

"Yeah, and no offense, Skywalker, but you're not worth it."

He nodded. "Besides, your, I mean her legs aren't all that great."

"So I think the answer is 'no.'"

"So do I." Luke began dialing. "Uh Mara, use that short term recall, what's the number?"

"190012345JEDI."

"Better hide the bottle. We don't want them getting the wrong idea about us."

"You mean about you?" Mara stashed the bottle under her seat.

"Jedi don't drink, everybody knows that."

A very friendly looking protocol droid appeared. "Welcome to Jedi Productions. If you are calling to log your views on the Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade survey, please stay on the line. Due to high viewer interest, a brief delay can be expected. But your call is important to us, and to Luke and Mara."

"It's important to me, is it important to you, Mara?"

"Absolutely, my life depends on it."

They waited several minutes, and the protocol droid reappeared. "I can register your comments on the Luke and Mara survey."

Luke cleared his throat. "This is Jedi Master Skywalker and Master Trader Jade. We have contacted you to transmit our opinion on your viewer survey. We have concluded after careful consideration," Mara nodded wisely, "that we, that is the characters who portray us on the popular series 'Tales of the Jedi' should maintain, as we have for almost ten years, a platonic friendship."

"Good choice of words, Skywalker," Mara whispered. She said aloud, "Particularly in the interests of my own long term survival, I can assure you that Master Trader Jade would never sacrifice her life for a mere sexual relationship with Jedi Master Skywalker. Do you have anything further to add Jedi Master?"

"No, I do not Master Trader Jade."

Mara continued. "I also wish to remind the producer of Jedi Productions that he can expect to be receiving suit papers from my counsel arising from his breach of our contract."

Skywalker disconnected. They both sighed contentedly.

"That was fun. I'm looking forward to hauling that slime ball into the Trader Tribunal," Mara said.

"As you said to me, I don't think that depiction will hurt your reputation."

"Actually, I don't think it will at all. If people think my ship is that well defended, and that I'm that ruthless they would be more likely to trust me with their cargo." She paused, and then added, "Of course this assumes that Tara continues to exercise sound discernment and stays out of your bed."

"Your customers would certainly have every reason to question your judgment if she doesn't."

They both rocked in their seats, staring at the star lines. Mara put her feet up on the console, stretching her legs. "As the leg man, this is for your benefit Skywalker."

He winked and they both lapsed into silence.

"I've always liked watching the star lines on a jump," Luke eventually commented.

Mara gave a snort of amusement.

"Why's that funny?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"'Let's go to the cockpit and watch the star lines' is one of the oldest cantina pickup lines around."

"Really?" He thought a moment, puzzled. "I don't get it. Is it an invitation to your ship? Or do you take your date on a jump?"

"That's the point, you're in a bar, you can't." She harumphed. "Trust me, use that line on a woman and she'll know exactly what you mean. Geez, how are we going get you a girlfriend? How am I ever going to get that commission?"

They sat longer in companionable quiet.

Jaina's picture was still hanging in the cockpit, just above Luke's line of vision. He studied it, and then asked, "Mara do you ever think about kids?"

She did not even look at him. "Word of advice, don't ever use that as a pick up line."

"It wasn't a line. You're the one with a picture by a ten year old in your cockpit."

Mara looked up. "Oh, yeah."

"So do you?" He could tell Mara was in one of her ornery moods, objecting first, just to be argumentative, before capitulating.

"What?"

"Do you ever think about kids?"

"If that's an offer, the answer's no."

He laughed at her. "Trust me, it's not an offer. So do you?"

"What is it with you and this cockpit? Can't we ever have a normal conversation, about shielding and maneuverability on TIE's versus X wings or something? Or your favorite sports team? Or the galactic trade in winter wheat?"

"It's a normal enough topic."

She groaned. "All right, you've beaten me down. What about them? Are you talking in general, or hypothetical ones of my own?"

"Both."

"I like other people's children. Jaina and Jacen are great. They are just old enough to start getting interesting. And I have some friends on Verrat with children, I like them a lot too."

"How'd you come to know the local Verratans? Have you been trading there that long?"

"I lived there for several months, after Endor, before I joined Karrde's group."

"You didn't tell me that."

She shrugged. "I was going to tell you tomorrow. Does it make a difference?"

"No, I just didn't know."

"I lived with a family while I was there, got to know them really well. They are wonderful people. You'll probably meet them."

"I'd like to. And you got to know some of their kids?"

"I thought I had chased you away from that subject."

"Not a chance I'd let you off that easily."

"Yes, I know them very well." He was surprised to hear a genuine softness and warmth from her.

"Don't act so shocked."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to. Anyway, the family is a big, extended one. There were several children when I lived there, and now that some of them are older, they have children of their own. I'm very popular, Aunt Mara, and all that. I haven't been there in several months, and am looking forward to seeing them. It's one reason why I continue to do this trip, profits notwithstanding."

"Have you ever thought of having your own?"

"Any other deep personal information you want to know before I answer that question?"

"If I think of any, I'll ask."

"You're impossible."

"It's great, isn't it? Too bad you can't just send me out the airlock."

"Who says I can't?" She paused, but he continued to wait expectantly. "I guess I think about it sometimes. But it's different for women."

That was not the answer he was expecting. "What do you mean?"

"Well you can jump from system to system, and assuming the woman is willing, plant as many children as you want."

Leave it to Mara to put that kind of spin on it. "That's a rather barbaric way of looking at the subject."

"Is it? I'm not so sure. In the end we are biological creatures."

"Well we have also evolved."

"In the area of human procreation, not really. Men still father children and women still bear them. The cost to the man is nominal in comparison to that of the woman. His interest is in assuring the continuation of his line with as many children as possible, and her interest is in keeping just one man around to help her raise the child. And he can keep doing it long after she can't."

Luke objected to her callous analysis. "That's a pretty cynical view of relationships."

The intended explanation sounded mostly argumentative. "We weren't talking about relationships. We were talking about children. Bringing a child into the world is a huge commitment. And it would radically change your life."

"Well you are only looking at it from the question of how it would affect you."

Her tone became more strident. "It would be irresponsible if I didn't think how it would change me."

"But those are good changes, positive ones."

"I don't know that for certain, and I don't see how you can either."

He did not like the implication of her statement. "So you think I'm being naive if I think it would be one of the best things a person could do."

Mara took a deep breath before answering. Her response when it came out was pedantic and irritated. "I didn't say that. All I'm saying is that it is a serious undertaking, that I don't know if I could handle the responsibility alone, and I've never known a man who could make that kind of commitment."

The answer seemed so obvious to him, he wondered at how she could be so blind. "Well, maybe the problem is not all men, but just the ones you meet."

"I get what I want out it." Mara did not wholly succeed in avoiding sounding defensive.

"I guess that's not enough for me."

She pulled her legs off the console, straightened abruptly, his mild reply stinging. He turned, startled to feel her grating hostility. "Keep this up, Skywalker, and I will send you out the airlock and take my chances on the asteroid belt."

Luke did cease his interrogation. "I didn't mean to sound judgmental. Given my past successes, I certainly can't criticize you for finding what you think makes you happy."

"Oh, well if you phrase it in such complimentary terms, how could I possibly be offended?" She swiveled her chair, turning her back on him.

He reached over to pivot her chair back, trying to meet her in the eye. "No really, Mara, I'm not criticizing, and I agree with you, raising children, especially ones who may have Force potential, is a serious business." He suddenly remembered something she had said earlier. "Weren't you the one who said that if you don't take the risks you'll never get the payoff? Isn't the key finding someone with whom you want to take those risks?"

When Mara didn't respond, he continued. "I guess I'm a little envious. You seem to have made some compromises that have really worked for you, blending your Force skills with your trading. I didn't think that you had been in a serious relationship with anyone or had children and I wondered if you missed that." He made the last statement carefully, trying to anticipate her reaction, but all he got was stony silence. "I've just been thinking lately that I've had to sacrifice those things to be a Jedi. Do you think to be a Jedi is worth that kind of personal cost?"

"I've never wanted to be a Jedi if it meant retreating from the world. I never understood how you can do that."

Yet another not so subtle reproach. He said nothing at first, thinking glumly that her words reminded him of another. "Right before Corellia, Mon Mothma said something very similar to me."

"That was presumptuous of her."

"Maybe. She said that Leia was a better example of a Jedi than I was, precisely because she had made better use of her gifts to become a leader, a wife, a mother, even if it was at the expense of some of the more elevated skills."

"That wasn't just presumptuous, she was rude. She has no right to say things like that to you after everything you've done to bring her to power and help maintain the NR." They were both surprised at her vehement response.

"Well, in not developing her powers completely Leia has been free to do other things, and it's obvious how happy she is with that trade off."

Mara's reply was harsh. "I don't buy your fundamental presumption. I don't think of the Force as some kind of vengeful god that exacts a personal price for every success in our lives."

"But we don't really know, do we? Gaeriel believed that the cosmos had to balance, that the more exalted one person, the more lowly the next."

"That's the best excuse for mediocrity I've ever heard," she snapped.

Her characterization was grossly unfair. "Mara, it's amazing how you can malign a profound and complex religion in a single sentence."

"Skywalker, you have to stop thinking of these things in absolute or irrevocable terms. You'll make yourself nuts." She shifted her argument when he turned coolly silent. "Can you honestly say that you would have done anything differently - rescue Leia, try to save Vader, help me destroy C'baoth, form the Academy, any of the things you've done - if you knew then that there'd be a price to pay now?"

Her compulsion to drive him to her point of view, to win every round, infuriated him. Reining in his temper, he finally replied reluctantly, "No, I'd do it all again."

"See? Maybe that's the problem. It's what I told you before, about being a fighter. Forget about this passive Jedi mysticism crap. Don't just sit in the jungle waiting for things to happen to you. Go and make things happen for yourself."

He'd had enough. "Well Mara," he spit out hotly. "If all I had to do was find a warm body at a pilot's cantina, maybe I'd be as happy as you are."

The slam was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Mara flushed at his cruelty, and then turned icy cold. She stood. "Get some sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow," and strode out of the cockpit.

Luke was seething. Mara was never bothered by doubt or indecision, never perturbed by the self-awareness borne of serious introspection; she was always right, he was wrong. Her contempt for a credo that had guided his life for twenty years was insulting. She couldn't take it as well as she gave it.

When he did not hear her, he cautiously sent a tendril out and found Mara had gone to her cabin. She was still broadcasting her emotions on a broad band, waves of predictable anger, disgust and wrath toward him and the universe emanating from the rear of the ship. She's probably kicking at some walls. He was absorbed for some time in berating Mara for her perpetual insensitivity. When he felt her anger fade as she mastered her control, Luke tried surreptitiously to eavesdrop.

What he learned shocked him. With a jolt, Luke realized he had just learned the buttons to push that would wound. He had never tried to hurt Mara before, and the knowledge that he could, that she could even be hurt by mere words of his was abruptly sobering. His resentment of her evaporated, and he reached out to fashion an apology, "Mara, I'm sorry."

She did not respond right away. He tried again, "Mara..."

"It's all right, don't worry about it. I sounded like Mon Mothma."

"I still should never have said such things to you. You're practically the only friend I have."

Her response was bone weary. "I said it's okay. You were provoked."

"But you're right. I have to do something, make some change. I just don't know what to do."

"It's late Skywalker. Go to sleep."

He felt her try to shut off the contact, to compose herself, to rest. And he let her go. "Good night old buddy," he whispered softly to her. He felt her smile.

He wandered, bereft to his own cabin. Lying in his bunk, he felt exhausted from the gamut of emotions of that evening, and yet still not able to sleep. What a miserable life. My best friend is a former assassin and my girlfriend leaves me for a clone. His gloomy mood became blacker. I'm now getting excitement trading wine on a rim world. Maybe the airlock wouldn't be a bad option.

Since the first day on the Fire, he let the darkness take him. And the dream returned, the same one that had haunted him for three weeks. He was standing atop the Massassi Temple. Callista was with him, her serious face suffused with love. He embraced her, Callista's loving arms were about him, and then laughing, she challenges him to a mock lightsaber duel. In the duck and play, she raises her lightsaber above her head, and suddenly, her features dissolve into rivulets of blood and gore, and another figure emerges.

Each dream is a different nightmare, sometimes it is Vader, or Palpatine, Exar Kuun, C'baoth, or even his own clone. But the end is always the same. The figure advances, attacking, viciously, and without mercy, hacking at him, driving him down. And in an awful replay of Bespin, the dark Jedi slices off his right hand, and then his left, and then his other limbs, and as he pleads for death, the last image is a bright blade crashing down.

Luke woke to his own screaming, lost in that confused state between nightmare and consciousness, when it seems that the dream world has pursued its victim into this reality as well. But the cries were not his voice.

"Mara?"

Her screams were penetrating his cabin, her mind reeling in fearful chaos. He bolted out of his room, tore to her darkened cabin, and then stood rooted at her door.

Mara was sitting upright in her bed, her eyes wide open but unseeing, imprisoned in a nightmare. She was thrashing, flailing her arms to ward off unseen blows, screaming. "No, master, don't don't oh please, master I can't."

He called out to her, trying to tear her from her dream, but her mind was a turmoil of terror and agony, too far enmeshed in her private horror to hear.

Luke stumbled to her bunk. She was pleading to her invisible tormentor. "My hands, oh master please no, don't."

"Mara, it's me, wake up, it's just a dream." When he touched her, she shrieked, scrambling to be free, but entangled in her bed covers. He grasped her face, cradling it with both hands, turning her toward him. As he touched her mind, he heard a gloating, imperious voice, "You failed me, and now die." He saw as she did, in an echo of his dream, a red blade swing down upon her.

She screamed again, and then lay in his arms, trembling. Sight and sanity seemed to emerge, but when she finally saw him, as if for the first time, she gasped, "Master," and recoiled, clawing for an escape. He realized grimly that in her confusion, she had mistaken him for the dead Emperor.

He tried reaching her again. "Mara, it's me. You've been dreaming, it's just a dream."

Her hands flew up. "My hands, he cut off my . . ."

Luke reached for them, repeating, "No, it's just a dream." Her fingers were slivers of ice.

Slowly the dream receded. When comprehension returned, she was still shaking with cold and fright. "What happened, did I wake you?"

He was shivering himself. "I was dreaming. You picked it up, and starting dreaming it too. I heard you screaming."

Mara shuddered again. "You're freezing, I'm freezing." She pulled a blanket over both of them, and huddled next to him on the bunk. "What was...?"

"It's the after effect of a Dark Side nightmare. It was Palpatine, wasn't it?" He could barely see her face in the dimness, but she nodded.

"It was like the dreams I used to have, but worse. He would tell me to kill you. This time, he ..." her voice broke with strain. "He started cutting me to pieces with a lightsaber. Do you have the same dream?"

"The person is always different. Tonight it was Palpatine, sometimes it's others." Luke was still holding her hands in his, trying between the two of them, to find some vestige of warmth. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it could affect you."

She pulled her hands away, drew the blankets closer around them and then wriggled into the protective cocoon. "I'm tired of hearing you apologize. There's blame aplenty to go around. Come on, lie down."

Her proposition seemed ludicrous under the circumstances. "Uh, I..."

She quickly corrected his confusion. "No, I know, I didn't mean that." She gently pulled him down. "It's narrow, but there's room for two."

He rolled over on his side, facing away from her, and she sidled up to his back, throwing one arm over. He drew her hand up, near his chin. They lay there for a long time, not speaking, waiting for warmth to return to chilled, frightened bodies, heart and breath finally finding a normal pace.

Mara seemed almost asleep, but then he felt her Force awareness stir, and move toward him. "I don't want to ever have that nightmare again. Can you show me where it came from?"

Luke said nothing, but held her arm tighter around him, and lifted part of the barrier that kept her away. Her strong sense flowed into him, and together they sank to the dark, cold place from where doubts and fear come. He felt her course through his awareness, and then suddenly, her light blossomed, and ignited his own. Together, they flooded that terrifying place with a warm bright flame. The shadows fled.

For a second time that long day, she slowly withdrew from his mind. He lightly kissed her fingertips, in a silent thanks.

She said quietly into his shoulder blades, "Well, you're finally in my bed, Skywalker."

He squeezed her hand. "Hey, if that's all this was about, we would have done it a long time ago."

Mara sighed. "I know. It's just ..."

"Now is not the time to have this conversation. We've done and said enough for one night."

They lay still, until she felt his slight amusement. "What?"

"I was just wondering how I could ever explain this to another woman."

Mara drew closer, and replied with a tartness very much at odds with the kiss she softly planted on his shoulder, "If she doesn't understand, then she's not worthy of you."

"You keep that up, and I'll have a lot more to explain."

"Sorry. Sleep well farm boy."

"You too, old buddy."

* * *

To follow, Chapter 3, Rude Awakenings

_"Control, control, you must learn control." Yoda had never contemplated the control required for moments like this - or had he? Now this would be a demanding test for a young Jedi, he thought. It certainly was for an old one._

_She looked up, exultant, "Let's do it again."_

* * *

Thanks to those of you who have spotted this and put it on alert and favs!


	4. Chapter 4 Rude Awakenings

STUFF, CHAPTER 4  
RUDE AWAKENINGS

_"Control, control, you must learn control." Yoda had never contemplated the control required for moments like this - or had he? Now this would be a demanding test for a young Jedi, he thought. It certainly was for an old one._

_She looked up, exultant, "Let's do it again."_

* * *

Thanks to those who reviewed and put this on alert! Lurking Writer, you are quite correct. If the story seems familiar, it might very well be. Stuff has been around a long time and I only put it up over here when I realized that even after 15+ years, it was still getting rec's - warts, faults, and all. As we move into the 20th anniversary of the release of_ Heir to the Empire_, I admit to feeling nostalgic for those days and these characters. Stuff was how I had seen the relationship between these two characters unfold after _HTTE_. If you are reading, I'd love to hear from you!

* * *

This waking up in strange situations was going to have to stop. This time, Luke awoke first, and it took him a long moment to remember who he was twined with, where and why. It was just another bizarre left turn in their tortuous association. _Sure, you know Mara Jade, the one who wanted to kill me for so long. Well I'm paying her a finder's fee if she can find me a wife. And in the meantime we sleep together, no sex, just sleep together._

Absolutely, no problem, made perfect sense. Never mind trying to explain it to anybody else, he had no idea what to make of it himself. And the slim arms wrapped around him and long firm leg slung over his own were not adding measurably to clarity of thought.

He wondered now, under the present, errr, more intimate circumstances, how he could have ever thought Mara's looks a bit too predatory for his tastes. He paused for a moment to indulge in a frank appraisal her lumpy flight suits did not permit. The strap of her sleeping shift had slipped off her shoulder, offering a glimpse of certain features that, although not of the oversized proportions of the statuesque Tara, were, to his mind, far more captivating. Projecting into the future what might happen if the strap slipped further down occupied him for some time - the future, was after all, always in motion, and some possible futures certainly involved more motion than others.

Luke knew without a doubt that Mara would filet him for his pleasant discovery and subsequent more thorough perusal of the remainder of her marvelous body - it was a luxury a conscious Mara would have never permitted. Nor, all in all, was it a particularly gentlemanly thing to do. Yet, he was equally certain that her long efforts to conceal any hint of true sensuality from him were quite calculated. He was sure she had no such inhibitions with other men, and she should not always feel so confident in his good manners and restraint.

As he considered his options, somewhat incongruously old Master Yoda came to mind - "Control, control, you must learn control." Yoda had never contemplated the control required for moments like this - or had he? Now this would be a demanding test for a young Jedi, he thought. It certainly was for an old one.

In the end, it was not Yoda's admonishments which stayed his hand from acting on a very compelling impulse, but a far more serious threat - Mara's uncertain morning temperament. He would not be surprised if she stashed a blaster within easy reach. In her typical morning stupor, she would be most likely to aim and fire first and only later, if ever, come to regret the fact that she did not open her eyes before administering a fatal blaster burn.

More fundamentally, he knew, as they had both known last night, now was not the time to resolve this latest twist. Never, ever, try to decide whether you _should_ be, when already you _are_, in a woman's bed.

So he gently, pulled the strap back up over her shoulder. Better go now, before he began to regret the decision, or she woke and made it for him.

* * *

Luke was thoroughly bewildered. He burned himself twice and boiled the tea into oblivion on the third try before getting a passable brew. And just in time. Following a routine established over the past thirteen days, he kept an 'ear' out for Mara. When he heard her stirring, he took a hot cup down to her cabin, leaving it outside the door. He sent no message apart from three words to that bleary mind - "Hot, tea, door," knowing from experience that more complicated messages were beyond her comprehension at this point.

He retreated into the cabin, struggling to still his trepidation. He knew what to say to a woman he had made love to - he just did not know what to say to one with whom he had only slept. _Hi? How'd you sleep? Did I snore?_

Luke belatedly realized he had been foolish in not thinking this out more carefully before agreeing to leave Yavin. On the other hand, he and Mara had been on missions before, alone and with others, in closer quarters than this, and for longer periods of time. So why was this one different?

It seemed that in the crazy, aberrant swings in their long relationship, certain normal, critical stages had been omitted. Why didn't they ever just talk about winter wheat, or shut up and do the deed billions of loyal fans were expecting? Instead they had gone from mortal enemies to saving each other's lives; from student to master and back; from a wary acquaintance to an intimacy so close one could wound the other with a word. And now the pendulum was swinging again, and sometimes, even when you have known someone for ten years, it moves too fast.

He had been sitting at the table, with his back to the corridor immersed in these thoughts, and was therefore truly alarmed when he felt a tap. He whirled around. "How long have you been standing there?"

Mara was leaning against the wall, having used a Force, rather than physical, touch. "Not long. You know, I could probably teach you something about splitting your concentration. Being that focused is important, but could be dangerous."

"At this point, you probably could and it certainly is. How much did you overhear?" Luke asked guardedly.

Mara might have tried uttering a denial, but could probably not lie any more successfully to him than he could to her. "Not much. Even when you're that distracted, I hear very little. Once your barriers are up, I hardly hear anything."

"You didn't answer my question."

"No, because mostly, like you, I was trying to figure out what to say."

"And?"

"'How'd you sleep' did not seem quite adequate."

He laughed and held up the carafe, "I rejected that one myself. Want some more?"

"Please. It seems too early for a stiff drink, but if I could have snuck one out of the cabinet without you noticing, I would have."

She walked over to the table, cup in hand and then stood at the table. He felt her hesitation, "What?"

"This is going to get old really fast. I'm standing here wondering, do I sit across from you, or next to you, and if next to you, how close?"

"How about across, it's where you've been the whole trip, and it's better for talking."

"I would think 'better for talking' would be one reason not to sit there." But she did just that, sitting while he poured and then cautiously sipping her hot brew. They sat in silence. Finally Luke broke the impasse. "So who goes first?"

Mara glanced at him over the rim of her cup, "It was your dream, you go first."

"But you asked me to stay, so you go first."

She sat for a long moment, eyes downcast, then said slowly, weighing each word, "Your dream scared me to death. Thanks for staying and seeing it through with me."

Amazing how she could turn a supposed thanks into a vehicle for assessing blame. Well then, he would not yield the point either, "Even though it was only a dream, I was glad to stay when you asked, and..." he paused, considering the advisability of the next statement.

"And?"

What the hell, he gave her a playful nudge under the table with his foot, "If you asked, I'd gladly do it again."

She looked up with a wink, "Okay." They both started laughing. Mara returned the prod, and then she was all business again, "Come on, let's get to work." She slipped out of the booth, and headed to the cabin terminal where Artoo had been encamped. "So, has it loaded every data bit in my computer?"

"Probably. He's helped me find all of your personal files. I've been reading them in the mornings."

Mara did not miss a beat. "Then you've found my 'to do' list?" She disconnected a data pad from the access terminal and returned to the table, this time scooting in next to him. She located the file, and "to do's" began scrolling down the screen - "Verrat background," "Trading protocols," "Tell S about F social conventions," "NRI report," "Navigation issues," "Prepare port documents," and so on.

He managed to say blandly, "I found the list," as the entries "Locate brandy in hold," "Hide brandy from Mara," "Argue about who pilots through belt" and "Alter to do list" scrolled by. "Alter to do list" had a check mark by it.

She snorted in disgust, "So apart from screwing around with my computer, have you been doing anything else useful?"

"Oh, you mean like reading the files 'Verrat general,' 'Verrat political,' 'Verrat economic,' 'Verrat geography,' and 'Verrat social?'"

"Something like that."

"Well, you can fill me in. It's pretty much as you said, small planet orbiting a yellow star, 28 and change standard hour rotation, 402 standard day orbit. Humans, against their better judgement, colonized it in the days of the Old Republic with the help of the Jedi. They had the bright idea of protecting everyone from possible annihilation by erecting Class three energy fields over four areas that have now become the population centers for about three million permanent citizens."

"Very good."

"Standard NR credits accepted, but economy among the native population operates mostly on barter, Basic spoken, and a local pidgin dialect - the courteous but rather ominous hello and good bye 'no cazut i shtea' roughly translated as 'may the stars not fall.' I'm not very clear on how people can support themselves, or why they stay. And I'm very curious about the Jedi influence."

"Like I told you, the economy is mostly agrarian. Despite the belt, 'stars' as they so poetically call them, do not fall out of the sky that often, and it's not as if they can't detect them before they do. One of the pluses of generations of asteroid debris is very fertile soil. There are thousands of square kilometers of arable land, just outside the cities. The farms aren't, by the way, protected by the energy fields."

Luke interjected, "That's an unusual variation on the risks of living off the land." Mara looked at him curiously. "As you so often remind me, I grew up a farm boy. Apart from the more typical rain, drought, insects, and disease, an asteroid falling out of the sky is a sure fire way to wreck your harvest."

She nodded, and continued, "Traditionally, the original colonists had their own farmsteads, and were able to support their families, or trade what they didn't have for what they needed, augmented by the occasional imports."

"And the Jedi?"

"They came, they left. The colonists stayed. Most important thing though, is Force courtesy, and I'll tell you about that now, so then I can cross it off my list."

"Of course, make sure you do that."

"Don't make fun of my list. Don't you ever write things down?"

"If you have Force recall, why do you need a list?"

She looked at him coolly. "So you never become dependent on that faculty, and for the satisfaction in being able to cross things off."

"Well, you notice I did add some things, and crossed one off as well."

"In the future, I will remind you to keep your grubby paws of my lists. So do you want to know how to avoid mortally offending the Verratan population or are you just going to make fun of me?"

"I'd prefer to do both."

Mara scowled, and Luke privately thought that the score for that morning so far was Skywalker 2, Jade 1.

"A significant percentage of native Verratans are Force sensitive."

"Is that because the Jedi mixed with the colonists?"

"Probably, but it's also a survival skill, natural selection and all that - some ability to anticipate the future or at least act on accurate hunches is useful with asteroids orbiting over head."

He said slowly, "I might be able to find some students."

Mara was fiercely emphatic. "You'll do no such thing. Force sensitives are very valuable to the community - to its survival. You shouldn't presume to remove them just for the sake of getting another acolyte."

Luke thought she was going a little far. "I don't see what the problem is in identifying a few likely candidates, and offering to train them."

"Because it's not right. The Verratan view of the Force is very complicated, a simultaneous blessing and curse - it helps them stay alive, but they are burdened with foreknowledge many would simply rather not have. They would never discuss it with an outsider. And don't try to probe anyone, they will know if you are, but I've never met anyone trained enough to prevent it. It is considered a terrible affront - both an invasion of a person's personality, and an arrogant abuse of power."

She took a deep breath. "Besides, start throwing your Force ability around, and someone's likely to figure out who you are."

"I've been wondering about that. The whole reason you go there is because of those rich Imps. Do you think we're likely to have any problems?"

"I've thought about it, but I really don't think anyone would be likely to recognize you. I'm known there, and known for having a co-pilot along." She paused, waiting for some unfunny witticism on his part, but he didn't rise to the occasion. "And, with the popularity of the 'Jedi' series, most people think you like look that actor, and not like you do."

"How very flattering."

Mara grinned. "And I checked before we left - no one is offering a bounty for you."

"Too bad."

"It is. It might have been worth turning you in, especially if I can't get a commission for finding you a girlfriend." Luke awarded her a grimace as Mara began laughing at her own joke. Skywalker 2, Jade 2. "Besides, if things get hot, I don't think there's anything there we couldn't handle."

"It doesn't sound as if you think much of the Imp population there."

Mara pulled on her lip thoughtfully. "I don't. It's just a bunch of fat, lazy, wealthy, top of the food chain type customers sucking the life out of the unfortunate people beneath them and whom without, they could never maintain their comfortable, complacent lives."

"Not that you have an opinion of them or anything."

"Well, I can let you draw your own conclusions. Did you read my Verrat Imperial file?"

Luke shook his head, steeling himself to avoid smirking at her sincere question.

Mara went on, ignoring his suppressed mirth. "If you think about it, there is an odd combination of factors that make this a strange place - founded with Jedi, extreme inaccessibility, Force sensitive population. All sorts of unusual and dangerous people willing to risk the belt have found sanctuary on Verrat. An early rebel group founded a base there, and a much younger Palpatine was concerned enough to wipe them out. He left a governor and a few commanders to patrol the planet. The Imps really liked the place, and spread the word. It became a much sought after favor from the Emperor - if you serve well, Palpatine would grant you a home and estate on Verrat."

He wondered at the bitterness in Mara's final sentences, "That influx of new people must have changed life there - were there purges?"

"Purges might have been preferable. Palpatine confiscated the family farms, consolidated, and parceled them out to the loyalists. People who had been working land for generations were forced off and became tenants on the farm they had once depended upon for their livelihood."

"I still don't understand why your typical Imp would want to leave the luxury of a Core World to become a lord farmer on Verrat."

Mara sighed. "You have to understand the Imp mentality. It was an opportunity for them to return to some bygone era and live in sartorial splendor. It appeals to an Imperialist's romantic notions of conquest and acquisition - driving out across these vast and lovely fields, able to say, 'This is mine.'"

She had to stop for a breath. "And the Imps can do it all on Verrat with very little expense. It is far too costly in other parts of the galaxy to maintain huge homes and estates, have fleets of servants, throw lavish parties. But on Verrat, it's so easy if you have money - your credits will go a lot further there than just about anywhere else. Sure the really exotic things have to come off planet, but everything local, including both goods and labor, are incredibly cheap in comparison to other places."

Luke thought that he must have just found another button and cataloged it as "Verratan Imperial." He added aloud, "It must make for very difficult conditions for others."

"The exploitation of the Verratans is the main reason it's so economical for the Imps to stay there. With so many people displaced from their farms there is this large and terribly poor native work force to cater to your every whim and need. Why pay for the cost and maintenance of a kitchen droid, when you can get three or four local Verratan cooks for a few credits a week? In fact you hardly see any droids at all; technology is at a very low level. It's expensive to replace machines - on Verrat, it's the people who are cheap."

"Is there any other industry or employment?"

"No, at least not yet. Practically the only other places to work are in the homes of other Imps, or the humiliation of working land you once owned and paying a rent for the privilege of doing it. Hell, the rents an Imp family collects from tenanted farm land, whether in goods or credit, are enough to support them without ever having to draw on personal capital. Any money left over goes off planet. No Imp would invest in industry; no Verratan has the capital."

Luke added, "And of course, the locals are only paid enough to survive, and probably not enough to save to hire passage off the planet."

"Right."

"It is really like some old colonial era - most of the places in the galaxy just don't operate like that any more."

"There's no government to speak of. The Imps all contribute a sum each year to support the energy field and the space port. There are no levies, no taxes, no central authority and no support or services for the local population. If the Imps want something for their convenience, they will build it or pay for it. Once the Empire fell, they didn't even have to contend with the occasional Corsucant bureaucrat or tax collector."

During her last little speech, Luke had been listening carefully, resting his chin on a hand and gazing at her with a bemused expression. Mara began shifting uncomfortably under his stare, and finally raised her head defiantly, clearly expecting a quarrel, "What?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just surprised - I've never thought of you as holding any particular political views. You sound like quite the populist."

Her response was defensive. "You mean because I was once a stooge for the Emperor, I must think that how he subjugated entire systems is a good thing?"

"You know Mara, every conversation we have needn't end in an argument, especially when we actually agree on something. All I meant was that although it wouldn't be surprising that I voted for my sister, I never suspected you might too."

"Well aren't Jedi supposed to be defenders of peace and justice in the galaxy?"

He tried not to smile at her earnestness, "Yes, I have heard that before."

"What the Imperials have done to the local Verratans offends my sense of justice."

"And mine, too."

She jutted her chin out further, "You don't need to be so condescending."

"And you shouldn't be so apologetic or defensive," he countered, taking hold of her wrist and shaking it slightly. "I told you, I agree with you."

"Oh." Even as her wariness slipped slightly, she pulled her hand away, and became engrossed in checking items off her data pad list, leaving Luke to wonder how he could think he ever really knew or understood Mara.

"So how does trading work there?"

Mara looked up, "What do you mean?"

"Do you go direct or through brokers? I couldn't tell from your historical margins; they are so much higher than anything I've seen before. Even paying a hefty commission wouldn't affect your bottom line."

Her eyes opened wide, betraying a surprised and amused respect for this wholly unexpected observation from him. "Very good, Skywalker. I thought you lofty Jedi never mixed with the things that really make the galaxy spin."

He shrugged, inwardly pleased that Mara actually thought he had some skill she could admire. "I spent the first half of my life as a farmer, and selling water to the highest bidder."

"I usually sell about half direct and half through middlemen. You probably noticed that not all the goods are covered by sell contracts?" He nodded. "I usually contract with the middlemen in advance; they're stable, their deposits fund most of my purchasing, and the balance usually my costs. The remainder, my direct sales, are mostly pure profit." Her eyes gleamed. "I don't like to lock in too many contracts because prices tend to fluctuate - if just one freighter bites it in the belt, demand rockets."

"I bet you also like bargaining with those fat, top of the food chain Imps too, and squeezing every last credit out of them for that vine-silk and 50 year old brandy."

Mara giggled maliciously. "Oh, how they plead. You know, we have plenty of time and cargo, I might let you try some of the bargaining. You may not be half bad."

"Me?" This vote of confidence from her was startling.

"Sure, except it'll be harder than you think. You can't use the Force."

Although Luke had never considered it before, he knew why, "It would be unfair, wouldn't it?"

Mara nodded, quite serious, "It isn't right to use the Force to the disadvantage of another, even in a bargain, and even if they are Imps." She frowned at him, "You're surprised at my ethics." It was a statement, not a question.

Luke had hoped, absurdly, that his wonderment would escape notice, "A little."

Mara scolded him, "Just because you can't get through a simple conversation without the advantage of reading someone's emotional state, don't make the same mistake about me."

If he had not been paying attention, if had not already spent thirteen days with her, if the link they shared had not permitted him to learn how her flip answers could conceal deep fervor, Luke might have missed it altogether as just another sarcastic outburst. But at that moment, he discovered yet another way to hurt her, and deeply.

Luke struggled to think of something to ease the pain he had caused and then stopped; to do so would mean admitting again that he had the power to wound her, and he was no more prepared for that responsibility, than Mara would be to acknowledge it. He inched slightly away from her, thinking he was going to be really glad to get off the ship.

Mara, absorbed in her lists, seemed oblivious to the little internal war raging within him.

"Should we look at that NRI report?" She nodded, sliding out of the bank to find the cube.

Skywalker 3, Jade 2 - this time, there was no satisfaction in it, and he decided to stop keeping score.

She returned, slipping next to him again on the seat. "I loaded the report onto the pad, so we can both read it."

"I haven't looked at it yet, have you?"

"No."

She called up the file. It began with a cover note from Han:

"Hi Luke. I hope Mara hasn't murdered you yet even if you deserve it, because Leia would blame me. The attached is the most recent report from the missing agent on Verrat. I don't know how NRI got it but it appears to have been prepared at least two standard months ago. The agent missed the last two scheduled message drops - and NRI's been trying to figure out what to do. I've told them that you are going, and will look for the agent."

Luke felt a twinge of irritation at Han, "Rather confident I would be joining you wasn't he?"

Mara shared his annoyance, "Solo is very sharp. I'm surprised he doesn't cut himself more often than he does." They returned to the report:

"NRI wouldn't tell me much, but I think that is because they don't want to admit how little they know."

"The agent is a 24 standard year, male going under the name Witten Borkin. Verrat may have been his first solo assignment. His pic is at the end of the report. He had been on Verrat less than eight months, and was supposed to be working out of Tirgu Muresh. The agent runner there is a woman, known to NRI as Dazern Kyle; standard protocol requires that if something happens to an agent, she does nothing to endanger her cover or other agents, although I doubt NRI would bother with more than one agent on Verrat. Kyle's instructions are to keep a watch at the Sunspot Cantina in Tirgu and wait for NRI to contact her. If Kyle's still around, she should show up there. Your code word is "sunburn" and she should respond with a comment about the weather. Your reply is "Not this time of year." Crude, but on Verrat, it's the best NRI can do.

"One thing, Mara, NRI knows you do the run and Kyle may find you first. I found this entry in NRI's Verrat briefing protocol: "As a last resort, agents and runners may consider contacting Mara Jade. Jade lived on Verrat, is known there and appears to be engaged in legitimate trade with persons, like herself, once associated with Palpatine. See Jade file code clearance restricted classified for more information. She usually travels there one to three times a year. In a true emergency, it may be possible to prevail upon her to ferry messages out system. Although she will certainly read any communications, (and for these reasons caution in the content of any messages is called for) she is also likely to deliver them directly to Chief of State Organa Solo, General Solo, or most likely, Jedi Master Skywalker. See Jade file code clearance need to know restricted for more information."

"Mara, I thought you would be interested. I tried to get a copy of your file, but just set off a bunch of alarms. HS."

Mara was thrilled at this last part of Solo's massage. "Oh great, I'm a runner for NRI."

Luke read the entry again. "What's this about 'Jade file codes'?"

Mara shrugged, "Cross references to my NRI file, probably. Evidently they've attached security clearances to different parts of the file - my Verrat trading activities meriting only a 'classified.' Isn't 'need to know' the highest level they have?"

"I think so. Interesting that information on your contacts with Leia, Han and me is accessible only on that basis. I wonder what's in there?"

She snorted in disgust, "No doubt all sorts of things we'd be very surprised to find out about ourselves."

Luke added, with a knowing guffaw, "They probably have you related to Han or bearing my children. Do you know the Sunspot Cantina or Kyle?"

"Never heard of her, but I know the Spot. It's a local watering hole, few pilots, grunt types from the port, mechanics. If an NRI agent runner was in Tirgu, that's where you're likely to find her. Nice to know she won't be shocked if I show up, makes it easier to find her. It's where I would have started regardless."

The blurred picture of Borkin revealed a nondescript young man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a light complexion. Completely forgettable - his looks shouting "NRI spy."

The report began scrolling by_. Monthly Status Report by Borkin. Large credit transfers continue to be reported from sources in the Tirgu Credit Exchange. Unknown where credits are coming from and what they are being used for. Possibly evidence of smuggling. _Luke observed critically, "Not very literate, is he, crafting sentences that way?"

Mara agreed, "Definitely a youngster. He makes smuggling sound as if it's a revelation of covert activity."

The report continued: _Credit transfer activity continues primarily in the account of The Bacchanalia Trading Co. SRL._

"That's strange," Mara tugged on her lip again- a gesture he had come to associate with Mara preoccupied.

"What?"

"I've never heard of Bacchanalia before."

"Hmm. That is curious."

"Seriously ..." Mara began to object.

He interrupted her, hoping to forestall another argument on something they could already agree upon. "I know, I wasn't being sarcastic, you've been trading there for a long time. How long since your last trip?"

Mara made the query on the pad, "203 standard days."

"Is it likely a new company could have formed in that time?"

"Possible, just unusual."

"I don't remember any of your brokers trying to cancel or renegotiate sell contracts."

"They haven't. That's why it's so odd. If I had new competition, I would have expected to hear about it from them."

_Will begin working as a loader at Bacchanalia warehouse. Defense perimeter above Tirgu Muresh failed twice in last 30 standards. Reasons unknown. No sources have information._

Luke humped contemptuously. "Well, that's enlightening. I can't say I think much of Mr. Borkin or his descriptive and analytical skills. Could he have at least speculated on whether it was a mechanical failure? Sabotage? Described who he talked to, when this occurred, who was on watch, how they discovered the problem?"

Mara cupped her chin in her hand, studying the cryptic entry for some further insight. "I'll be curious to see what the Bacchanalia warehouse is. It wasn't there the last time I was in Tirgu. And I've never heard of a failure of the net before. The population, if they knew, would be in a panic. It would be interesting to look at outgoing passenger manifests. If Imps were leaving in droves, that might tell us something about who knew about it and when."

"Who has authority for maintaining the net?"

Mara made a disparaging sound in her throat. "It's under Imp control, of course, housed in the same building as the space port. I know someone who works there. We'll have to ask him about it."

"Who's your contact?"

She smiled. "I have lots of 'contacts' if you want to call my friends that. But this particular friend is Yur Remschi. He's part of that family I told you about. I lived with him, and his wife, and their children when I was in Tirgu."

Luke had been very curious about Mara's revelations from the night before; it seemed he really knew so little about her. "What were you doing there?"

Mara made a great show of pretending to be lost in thought. "At the time, let's see . . . it was about a year before I met Karrde. So..." she glimpsed at him with flashing mischief, "I was probably figuring out ways to track you down and kill you."

"Great."

"I was working as a mechanic, and my boss moved to Verrat. So I came too. I lived with the Remschis, Yur got me a job at the port, and I worked as a dancer at one of the clubs. I had thought being around Imps would be useful, that some of them might know who I had been, and help me out. But that didn't happen. Instead, being around so many Force sensitives just sent me over the edge. The nightmares returned with a vengeance, and alas, no one was interested in killing you, so I saved some credits, signed on with a trader and caught a ship out of there."

Luke shook his head, "You seem so matter of fact about it now."

Mara retorted, "Killing you? Oh, sure."

He rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Skywalker, how many women do you know who fantasized about you day in and day out for years?"

He hoped he favored her with an appropriate leer. "Billions if Duke's exploits are any indication. I just prefer the fantasies to be less lethal than yours were."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "I don't know if I would use the past tense if I were you." She started laughing.

The poke was not a gentle one. He rubbed his side. "Hey, waitress, don't you have some tables to clear or something?" He tapped the pad, "Pay attention, you're not that funny."

"I think I am."

He rapped the pad again, "I wonder what the smuggling might be. Has there been much of that type of activity historically?"

Mara wiped the grin away, once again somber. "Not that I'm aware of. Profits are high enough as it is, without the need to bring things in surreptitiously. Besides, for smuggling, you are either trying to get something in, or something out. There is nothing on Verrat that is profitable enough to justify the cost to export it. And the most interesting things that come into Verrat are the holiday presents the Imps order for one another. It really doesn't make much sense to me."

Luke remembered her earlier comment. "You said that your brokers have not been trying to alter your standing contracts. If there was much illicit activity going on, you would probably have noticed it too."

"Assuming that there are all of these credit transfers in and out of the Bacchanalia account as our not so competent Mr. Witten has observed, what goes with those credits, goods, people, land? Something else?" Mara asked.

"I think maybe we should pay a visit to both the Credit Exchange and the Bacchanalia Trading Company SRL."

"Hmmm." Mara was absorbed, staring across the cabin at Artoo.

"What is it?"

"Well, I usually don't bother with droids and I had intended to leave your unit on the ship while we were in Tirgu. But I'm reconsidering that. If we do get into the Credit Exchange or the Bacchanalia, I think you should bring your Artoo unit to get at those records."

He did not say anything immediately, then replied in a flat voice, "Whatever you think is best, Mara."

Mara jerked out of her musings, surprised at his surly comment. "You know, Skywalker, sarcasm isn't very natural to you. You don't have the finesse required."

Luke's response was mild but frosty, "I really haven't had the opportunity to hone it to the fine art form that you have. And Captain though you may be, I suggest that you be a little more diplomatic when ordering me or my droid around. You are more likely to get a cooperative response."

Bitten by his rebuke, Mara's temper blazed, then abruptly cooled. She did not want to weather another angry outburst; fighting with a Jedi Master was too draining. And even as he had been busy cataloging her flash points, she had suddenly located one in Luke, discovering just how far she could try to dominate him before he dropped that dreaded passivity and fought back.

Her apology was genuine and contrite, "Sorry. I can be a little over zealous at times. Allow me to rephrase. I was concerned that bringing Artoo along might attract undue attention. On the other hand, I believe that it would not be that unusual for a trader to bring one planet side. If we need to root through someone's data bank, an Artoo unit could be very useful. What do you think?"

"I'll defer to your opinion on whether or not we will draw unnecessary attention to ourselves by bringing a droid. I don't know this place the way you do. But, I agree that if we need to review passenger and shipping manifests or credit records we may want him along." His next comment indicated that he bore no lasting resentment, "Make sure you enter 'Bring Artoo' on your list so we don't forget him."

"A fine idea." Mara dutifully made the entry on the data pad.

Luke looked over her shoulder as she did so, "I think that next we argue about how to navigate the belt. I looked at some of the displays of your last few runs. You usually enter about the same spot in the belt?"

She nodded. "I don't really know why. Anyone who does it has their own preferred way of going in. I usually drop out of hyperspace, orbit the planet a few times, and come in a few degrees off a signal from Tirgu. I..." she hesitated.

"What?"

"Well, I usually sort of hover at the spot, thinking about Tirgu, about the signal, and then a path seems to open up, and I follow it. It's hard to describe."

He nodded. "No, I understand. I've done something similar before. I was hoping that you would share some of the fun."

Mara twitched her mouth into an ironic smirk, "It's either pretty degenerate or we are getting really cocky when we start thinking that navigating through an asteroid field is fun. What did you have in mind?"

He thought for a moment, then said slowly, "We could do the same thing you normally do, except that I could find the path, and then you could pick it up from my mind and fly through it. If you're actually piloting, I could probably keep enough of a surface tension on the outside of the ship to repel most of the rocks that come our way."

Mara dropped her sardonic expression, considering his proposal in wonder, "So you would be aligned with the belt and the ship, and I would link with you?"

"In a way, yes."

She whistled in admiration, "With a link controlling the ship, the belt and the course, we could do some really fancy flying." Her eyes glittered with anticipation.

Luke's own imagination quickened, considering the thrill of that kind of ride, "We could try going through a really dense part of the belt, or dusting some of the really big asteroids."

"Or," Mara injected enthusiastically, "next time, I could find the path and handle the ship tension and you could pilot through it."

A strange expression crossed Luke's face, "What's wrong?" Mara asked, as she felt his mounting exhilaration ebb.

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. My old Jedi Master used to abuse me for craving this kind of excitement. I was wondering what he would make of all this."

Mara shook her finger at him, "Don't get all pensive and depressed. I told you on Yavin this trip might be fun, so just enjoy it. Stop looking for deeper meaning in everything you do. It's very annoying."

"Maybe. But I do have to consider whether it's right to want to risk my life for the thrill of piloting through an asteroid belt."

"Sith, I hate it when you do that." She shoved him in the arm to emphasize the curse. " Listen, first, you are not risking your life. To do that, you would have to risk my ship, and my life, and I would never, ever let you do that. Second, if I may be so bold, you haven't acted this normal in years, so lighten up. Finally, and on a more serious note, maybe if the Jedi had craved a little more excitement, or at least been less acquiescent, Vader and Palpatine wouldn't have been able to wipe them all out."

Only the night before, he had been furious with her for expressing these same derisive opinions. Today, her critique of the Jedi passivity seemed less threatening.

"So can I cross 'navigation issues' and 'argue about who pilots belt' off my list?" She arched an eyebrow inquiringly, hand poised over the data pad.

Luke delayed in his answer, considering; Mara, he realized, did not fully comprehend the gravity of the decision. She was not a Jedi Master, and probably, for all of her skill, never would be. She had made the extent of her commitment clear, unwilling to fully embrace that ethic. But to some extent, she had to be right. Allowing the Force to guide his actions did not necessarily also mean abdication of personal accountability and it should be possible to avoid the dark side without also lapsing into fatalistic, passive submissiveness. When was a Jedi, restrained and controlled, and when was he merely senselessly compliant? Mara may have known the answer to that query better than he.

She said nothing verbally, but he heard her whispered challenge, "What are you afraid of?"

He said aloud, "Fear has nothing to do with it."

"Don't be too sure of that."

He heard her again, in his mind, subtly taunting him, "Are you the master because you have control, or because you never risk it?"

He answered her question by reaching over, and entering checks next to the entries on the pad.

Mara smiled her approval and shoved him again with her elbow, "Great."

"So, what's next?"

"My least favorite part of trading," Mara groaned. "We need to fill out the Verratan Customs forms, and attach one copy to each crate in the hold, and present the form, in triplicate to the Port Authority. Leave it to Verratan Imps to come up with a bureaucratic record keeping requirements useful to no one, and different from the data chip system everyone else in the galaxy uses. It's on the basis of what's on the forms that determines the duty I have to pay for the privilege of trading there. It's a pain, and I am sorry for inflicting it on you, but it really takes two people. I didn't have time to do it before I left, and if it's not done right, the port authority will have my hide and assess a fine for trying to smuggle."

"So, I will be able to locate the brandy after all." He had to duck as Mara smacked him with the data pad.

Even with Mara's ordered hold and files, and even with the Force ability to move crates around, the task still took all day. For Luke, the tedium was lifted marginally by the fun of opening up crates to peer inside at the exotic contents, and then quickly sealing them back up before Mara noticed. He did find the brandy and in a variation on Mara-baiting, secreted it away, in places she was certain to find it; it was not that he was that eager for more brandy, he simply enjoyed riling Mara over so small a thing. Mara did permit the liberation of one bottle of better wine for later.

* * *

Dinner was over and they were finishing the wine. Each had staked out territory at opposite ends of the couch. Luke sipped the wine, thrumming his approval. "This is much better than the other stuff we've been drinking."

Mara stretched her legs, sunk deeper into the couch, and sighed deeply, contentment washing over her as she rolled the wine in her mouth. "It should be. Even in the Core, this would run well over 150 credits a bottle. Can you tell how it's different?"

"Ummm, not as sweet."

"The flavor is drier, more intense, rounded, and tastes more of ripe fruit, earth, and sun. The feel on your teeth comes from the aging. This bottle, if you notice from the label, is almost as old as we are." She sighed again, "I love this wine."

Her almost sensuous pleasure from the drink was entertaining and unexpected. "I didn't know you were such an authority."

"One of the consequences of hanging around the Emperor - acquiring tastes that up until recently I could not afford. A wine to savor, it spoils you for anything else."

They lapsed into a companionable silence, music floating through the cabin. His chuckling interrupted her quiet reverie. "What?"

"I was thinking about the first time I was drunk, that it was not on so exalted a vintage."

She chuckled. "The perils of youth."

"That's about right. It was a party in Anchorhead; I drank way too many of some sort of sweet sour drink. Typical adolescent pick. I kept asking my friends, am I drunk yet, am I drunk yet. When I got sick, they told me yes. My last coherent memory was of leaning against an upturned table, singing religious hymns. Woke up on the front door step of home."

Mara's laugh was rich. "Let's see, first time for me was not nearly as enjoyable. It was after Endor - when the Emperor died, I crawled into a bottle and didn't come out for a week." She yawned, pushing him lightly with a bare foot. "What's the best party you've ever been to?"

"To the extent I remember them, which is very little, the pilots' parties, no question."

"They are fun, aren't they?"

"Some of the ones during the war were really frenzied. They were also the hardest - you felt you had to have a good time for the ones who didn't come back."

"Dancing and drinking for the dead," Mara said softly.

Luke stared into the depths of the rich red wine he swirled in his glass. "Both for the friends who died, and the enemies you killed." The melancholy passed with a sigh. "What about you?"

Her second languid stretch was probably unintentionally provocative. "Smuggler's parties, generally. Exotic food and drink, very interesting people, unusual music, usually terrific dancing. Karrde used to throw great ones. It's not a good smuggler party unless you break at least one piece of furniture. We smashed a dining room set at one when we all tried chair dancing. The next day I found bits of the chandelier in my pockets."

Mara's contrasts were baffling to him, and rather unwisely, Luke verbalized his incredulity, "Unbelievable."

"What is?" Mara's previously conversational tone suddenly developed a slight edge.

In crafting his reply, Luke chose what he deemed the more tactful approach, and in so doing, confirmed that he would never be a diplomat. "I just have a hard time imagining you swinging from a chandelier."

"Well, what's so unusual about it?" came the testy challenge.

"I dunno, it's just that ..."

Mara gave a low, warning growl.

Here we go again, Luke thought. "Well you keep surprising me. I think I've got you figured out, that there is some measure of predictability, and then -"

She interrupted him sharply. "So you think I'm unpredictable?"

Luke thought as privately as he could that of all things he could do, calling Mara "unpredictable" was surely the fastest way yet to provoke her. "Uhh, yeah, I do, like today with the politics on Verrat, or how you felt about me looking for candidates, or some of the things you said last night about having children, or chair dancing. I can never guess what you will do, what will set you off."

"Well you're not in any position to label me unpredictable, given the stunts you pulled yesterday," she accused. .

"That was different," he replied reasonably.

"How?"

"I was being fun."

Mara fired back, "So you're fun and I'm just manic."

"I hadn't thought of it in those terms before, but sure, I can't argue with that assessment. I'm fun, and you're, well I don't know what you are."

Mara raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "I see. Well, let me explore just who is the one being unpredictable here. I've been swinging from chandeliers for years. I have a long, long record as a fun person. You," she paused to lean over and poke him in the chest with a finger, "on the other hand, are not supposed to be fun. You are sanctimonious, critical, retiring, boring, passive or depressed." With each cataloged negative attribute, she poked him again. "You've been barging into my life for ten years, and you've never been fun before, why the change now?"

Luke affected astonishment, innocent eyes wide with feigned hurt. "I've been barging into your life? Excuse me, but who's the one who drops into Yavin for a day or two and then takes off again? If I'm so boring and sanctimonious, why do you keep coming back?"

Mara did not even have to pause for a breath, swinging back at the ready, pronouncing with immense satisfaction, "I like the night life there."

As if he could ever hope for a straight answer from her. Luke replied in kind. "If it's so great for partying, how come you never take me?"

Mara responded patiently, the answer obvious, and he too obtuse to comprehend it. "Because, you'd be boring, and you didn't know how to dance until I taught you."

He had an inspiration, it was time to call her bluff. "Well then, we should go out somewhere. Is there anywhere in Tirgu?"

Mara's metamorphosis from mocking amusement to intense consternation was swift. "Sure, there are places, but what do you mean, 'go out?' With you? Like on a date?"

"Sure. We've lived together, camped together, eaten, slept, and gotten drunk together, cut down clones and crazy Jedi Masters, fought how many air battles? Why not?"

Mara's voice edged up several octaves in a near panic, "But with you?"

"What's wrong with me? It's not like I'm a Gamorrean or something."

Her discomfiture was comical. "Wait a minute, we are supposed to be looking for a girlfriend for you."

Luke was ecstatic, he had her on the run now. "We can do both. Besides we weren't talking about my prospects, however dim they may be. We were talking about why you think I'm boring and giving me the opportunity to prove otherwise."

"Geez Skywalker, you are bor..."

"And another thing, why don't you ever use my first name?"

"What?"

Even he was wondering from what depths that question emerged. But as soon as he said it, he knew it had, that it continued to, irk him. "It's always some slight or slam or insult, 'Jedi,' 'farm boy,' 'rim worlder,' or 'Skywalker' if I am being particularly aggravating. You never use my first name."

Her response was petulant, "I do too."

"When? Use that long term recall. Can you think of a single time? I can't."

Mara furrowed her head, her brain laboring in the effort - "With Tionne, probably with Solo, or your sister, maybe Calrissian."

"But never to me, right?"

Mara hung her head, red hair curtaining her face. She stared into her empty glass and whispered "No."

"What was that?"

She didn't look up, but repeated more firmly, "I said _no_."

During this latest spat, the distance between them on the couch had closed. Luke reached out, and brought his hand to her chin, to tilt her face up. Mara resisted, turning her head away, eyes down. "Why don't you ever use my name?" Too late, he realized how dangerous his gesture was; like yesterday, he had trapped her, and then did not know what to do once she was cornered.

Under his fingertips, Luke felt Mara's pulse racing in her throat, and then steady to an even beat as she pinpointed her control. She slowly raised her eyes to return his gaze unblinkingly, finally replying evenly, "Why do you keep trying to box me in," and then a pause, "Luke?"

So she knew what he was doing, even if neither knew why. Luke stilled his own yammering pulse, and responded in the same measured tone, "And why are you always running?"

She lay bare the ruse, "Ahh. And of course, you have no reason to run, when you can simply be the Master." Mara then launched her counter offensive, raising her arm and curling it around his neck, her message unspoken, but clear -_Don't play this game with me unless you're prepared to lose_. They sat, unmoving, laced together, exquisitely contained, bloodless, each frozen in implacable calm.

This time, Luke yielded. He dropped his hand from her face, disengaging the tense contact. Mara's arm lingered a moment longer before she slowly retracted it from around his shoulders. They both rocked back, each withdrawing again to opposite ends of the couch, exhaling deeply as the control required for this contest drained fractionally.

Luke stood, "Early start, long day tomorrow."

Mara nodded, her voice gruff in response, "Yeah."

Luke turned to head aft.

"Wait, one more thing." He pivoted back around to face her.

The impish Mara had rebounded, grinning fiendishly. "Ship tradition. We have to toast the end of the jump." She gestured to the liquor cabinet, "Co-pilot's prerogative, pick your poison."

Right, he thought, not manic at all. Well, if Mara wanted to pretend nothing happened, so could he. He saluted her, "Aye. But this time, we use glasses." She jumped up, and disappeared, returning with two clean cups.

His selection was a surprise, "Bakuran nectar?"

He shrugged. "We've drunk all the Corellian, most of the ale and I'm not up for the pink wine after that bottle we just had. There isn't much left, and I for one, don't want to go back into the hold tonight if it means you'll put me to work again."

Luke poured and they raised their glasses. "Ladies first."

Mara whipped her head around, "Ladies? I don't see any ladies around here."

"Captain first, then."

Mara for a moment, considered actually trying to encapsulate something of the intricate mosaic that was their relationship. After this latest skirmish, it seemed impossible, "To fun and profit. To good hunting and my 22 and a half percent commission."

Luke laughed, "To fun and profit, to a lovely captain and a good friend."

Mara looked about again, "Who are these other people you keep referring to?" She paused, obliged to return the gallant gesture, "To the best of my many co-pilots."

"High praise from you."

"I didn't send you out the airlock; that counts for something." Glasses clinked and they drank.

They dawdled briefly in the corridor before finally retreating each to their respective cabins. Some time later, Mara was still tossing in her own bunk; she caught a similar restlessness in the cabin next door. It was very convenient to be able to have a conversation without leaving her bed, "Am I keeping you awake?" she asked.

"No. I thought I was tired, between hauling those crates around, the wine and the nectar, I expected to drop right off."

Mara rolled over and punched her pillow, "Whatcha thinking about?"

"That I want to go to sleep and can't." This was not completely accurate, he had been wondering what she was wearing, but did not feel compelled to share that not-so-idle curiosity. "What about you?"

"Same." She was no more candid than he. Mara had been thinking that Luke actually bore very little resemblance to a Gamorrean.

"That was a nice toast by the way."

"You mean the part about profit."

She didn't bother gracing his comment with a reply, but burrowed more deeply into her bed, and with enough vigor that he was certain to sense it.

"Well you are lovely. I've always liked redheads."

"I thought you preferred women in reptile skins."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"After Vader mentioned it, I went back and read my Dathomir file."

"Do you have my whole life cataloged in your computer?"

"No. Not all of it anyway," came the sly reply. She added, "Accurate information is very important when you are planning to kill someone. But it's always been hard to keep you in the right file."

Luke had a vivid image of Mara moving and dragging files with his name on them into different places in her ordered existence. He wondered whether she even used his entire name there. Mara was quiet for a moment, than fitful again. He asked, "What is it?"

There was a long, long pause. He could sense a powerful struggle, then, "I could come over. I mean well, ah, like last night."

It was tantalizing. As his mind flew to the disappointed impulses of that morning, he would have answered "yes" and far too quickly. The morning's memory battled with discretion, reason, restraint and judgement, with memory finally the loser, and buried in a mighty effort. "Do you really want to keep testing our control?"

"Ha. Don't flatter yourself. It wouldn't take that much control on my part."

Luke guffawed at her ego. "More than you might think. You're the one who just decided I wasn't a Gamorrean."

"So you've been eavesdropping?" Mara kept her answer flip, but was profoundly disconcerted.

"If you can't control your thoughts better than that, it's your problem."

"Well, try eavesdropping on this one," and she projected an image of his hand on the strap of her shift, and the effects of gravity when straps are relieved of the feminine shoulders they rest upon.

Luke returned the favor, sending an image of what he would do to her, of which particular parts would receive special attention, when her strap fell. He caught a fleetingly muffled groan of protest, and felt the movement of a pillow sailing through the air and thudding against the cabin wall. It was, however, impossible to savor the victory because at that moment he had to dive under his own pillows and covers as he felt a Force fingertip graze his neck and back.

He growled a complaint, "I'm duly impressed with your clever Force applications. Will you get your hands off me and let me sleep now?"

He heard her smug, "Yes," in his mind.

Mara retrieved her pillow with a flick and settled back into her bed. The Force as a flirtation device. She prided herself on a certain uninhibited creativity in this arena and played out the fanciful possibilities in her mind; the implications were intriguing, potentially very pleasing. She luxuriated in a muscle snapping stretch. Gamorrean indeed. Her control was equal to his, it would be fun to test it, see how far she could push him, how far he could push her. . .

Abruptly she ceased these avenues of speculation, appalled, horrified, embarrassed. Mara groaned again, this time in intense mortification. What was she doing? Oh she had to get off this ship. Tunneling deeper into her bed, she pulled a pillow over her head. Keep thinking like this and I'll get pulverized by an asteroid - and deserve it. She willed herself to sleep.

* * *

Morning came soon enough. Mara, still nestled deeply into her bed, felt a slight tug and caught the aroma of tea drifting toward her. She sensed a presence heading back to the cabin. Damn morning people, annoying, cheerful, energetic morning people. People better off dead. Shoot them just on principle. Blaster, near. Shoot. No. Stay. In bed. Forever. My place, my bed. Mine, mine. She sniffed again, hot, stim. Want. Need. Her desire for the stimulant warred with warm, muzzy inertia. _Stay, up, stay, up, stay, up. Solution, bring tea to bed, stay in bed._

She reached out with the Force, intending to open the door, and bring the tea to her, without leaving her nest. Unfortunately, her command was as bleary as the rest of her; she hit the light instead of the door control, blinding herself. Cursing she fell out of the bed and bumbled to the door, finding both the proper control and her salvation. She sat on the deck in her night shift, barefoot, hair in wild disarray, cradling her precious tea. Just another typical morning for Mara.

Several sips into her cup, Mara remembered her name. A few sips later, she remembered that she was on her ship, and a few sips after that, remembered that the only good reason for having Skywalker around was that he did brew a decent cup in the morning. Half way through the cup, her fog lifted marginally, permitting her to remember why she was on her ship, and why Skywalker was there too. By the time she finished the cup, she was washed, dressed, and knew that they dropped into Verrat today.

When she joined Luke in the cabin, he was concentrating on Artoo, securing him down for the ride to come. Luke chirped a "Morning," and ignored her grunted greeting, knowing that the parts of Mara's brain responsible for communication would not connect with the rest of her until she had a second cup. "There's more on the table." Another grunt. "Better take your time and drink the whole pot, you want to be alert when we do the run."

This time, speech, "Good idea."

"I've been stowing things. We don't want anything banging around. Cargo is secure too."

He joined her at the table, nursing his own drink and waiting for the raving bitch lunatic to recede. By her second cup, Mara no longer looked as if she was a nocturnal animal stunned by a speeder's headlights. By her third, normalcy, at least for Mara, returned.

She looked over at Artoo, finally saying, "Does it has all my trading data stored?"

Luke nodded. "I'm bringing the data pads, but will there be a computer and an access port somewhere?"

"Like everything else there, the computer systems are pretty primitive. Which might be helpful if we plan on looking at someone else's data. But the hotel rooms they set aside for Traders are equipped with decent ports, networks and displays. Before we leave the space port, we will also want to update what I have with data from the customs office - might as well get all incoming and outgoing shipments over the last year. They'll have price lists too. Those will tell us what goods are currently trading at, so we'll know where to start bargaining."

They sat silently for some time, each absorbed in focusing exercises as the chron timer in the cabin ticked down. By the time he had cleared the table she was ready, "Let's go."

In the cockpit they began running the systems checks. Luke could feel his own anticipation level rising, and detected that Mara, for all of her deft, competent movements in the captain's chair, was experiencing the beginning of a similar rush. He heard her unspoken thoughts, really directed to herself, and not to him, "This'll be great." He had to agree.

The chron ran down, and he disengaged the hyperdrive control. Blue lines tapered into glittering stars, and there, before them, a tranquil green-blue planet, and between them and the planet, an enormous swath of slowly circling and turning rock. It blanketed the planet, seemingly impenetrable.

He set their course into an orbit, a respectful distance from the belt and powered up the shields. Mara was already manipulating the comm. "Tirgu control, this is Jade's Fire, Tirgu control, this is Jade's Fire . . ."

A booming voice erupted from the comm, "It is about time. Have you drunk all my brandy, you wench? How is our favorite dancing corsair?"

In response to this extraordinary greeting, Mara's eyes lit. She was beaming ear to ear, "Hey, old man. It's still my brandy until you pay for it."

"Droom boon, Inta?"

"Droom boon, Yur."

"We have pined for you Inta. I have not seen my wife for a week - she says only that she must cook for our corsair. The children are clamoring for Auntie Inta, Auntie Inta. No respite for the old man until your light graces our stars, dear." Mara laughed, delighted.

"Give us a nice strong signal Yur, and we'll follow her in. We'll see you on the other side."

"No cazut i shtea Inta. We will wait for you." The voice clicked off.

Luke was dumbfounded. "Inta?"

In response to his question, Mara started, the shine dimming in her features. She shrugged, "Just a nickname."

"What does it mean?"

She was suddenly serious, "Promise you won't tell anyone?" Luke nodded, very amused. "It's a diminutive. Means 'little one," or more precisely, 'little girl child.'"

"How very fitting." It took tremendous effort to avoid smirking. "He's quite poetic."

"Well that's a Verratan for you, never says in two words what can be said more gracefully in ten." The soft affection she emanated belied her seemingly censorious answer.

"And 'droom boon?'"

"Good journey."

Mara adjusted the ship's navigation, finding Yur's signal. She arced the ship into a wide ellipse, bringing it around, toward the signal, and the spinning deadly stretch of frozen rock, trapped in the planet's gravitational pull, a forbidding menace between the universe, and the quiet place beneath. She nodded to him, "Ready?" Luke placed his hands on the ship's console, breathed deeply, and reached out, through the Force.

He found the pulsing signal and traced it, through the impossibly spinning morass. The signal became a cord weaving through, in, out and among the asteroids. Settling even more deeply into the Force, he found where the signal united with the ship. He reached into the ship, and felt its own pulsating rhythm, the icy vacuum of space against its metal hull. As his Force awareness widened, it searched further and found Mara, strong and familiar. He opened to her, and she flowed into his own awareness; as before, he felt her Force sense intensify and augment his own.

Mara joined him in the vision of the cord threading through the field to the planet below. What had been slight and dim suddenly became, with the heightened awareness she gave him, clear and sharp. The path opened up before them, complex, wild, dizzyingly intricate. At some elemental level transcending speech or mind, Luke asked, "Do you see it?" Mara offered no words, or even coherent thought as a response; instead her confidence and breathless excitement at the challenge ahead surged over him. As Mara, entered the belt, her connection to the ship and its controls melded with his own.

Two minds and the ship fused into a single crafty, slick creature. As they tracked the signal down, the ship seemed to dissolve, following in the wake of the consciousness that winded its way through the treacherous maze. They became a slippery, small, resilient thing, that, like opposite ends of a magnet, repelled the perilous turning rock. As the asteroids plummeted toward them, their merged consciousness wove through the hazard, fearlessly, dodging, darting. The ship was no longer a thing of metal and energy, pelted by boulders that could crush it with a blow, but a fish arrowing through water.

Luke felt Mara spy an enormous hulk of rock that dwarfed the ship in its immense size. Even as she thought it, the ship responded, skimming the surface impossibly, recklessly close. She flipped the ship on its side, sliding it through a long narrow chasm. He concentrated on easing the tension between the ship's hull and the rock seemingly only meters away. As he did so, the ship increased speed, rocketing down the canyon. Mara swooped up the walls to meet and loop around another hurtling asteroid, then plunged back down into the canyon, then rose again, diving and soaring, reveling in the power, in the union of mind, metal, and energy.

And then suddenly it was over. They burst out, into the clear space beyond the belt. Mara whooped triumphantly, flew out of her chair and threw her arms around his neck, their link still such that he felt every nuance of her effusive elation. He was drenched in sweat, reeling from the rush, the excitement, and the elevated awareness the effort had demanded to survive it. It was without a doubt one of the most exhilarating experiences of his life.

Mara pulled away with an "Ughh" before he could respond. Luke wiped a shaky hand over his wet face. She tugged her flight suit loose from her own sweaty body, "I'm disgusting." Then she looked up, exultant, "Let's do it again."

Luke shook his head, blinking, trying to clear his mind, to modulate the heightened sensitivity between them. Mara narrowed her eyes in concern, and leaned toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Are you O.K.?"

He nodded, finally finding the synapses responsible for speech, "That was an amazing run."

Mara gave him a crooked, shy smile, "We do work well together sometimes." She was damp with sweat, her hair, uncontrolled under most circumstances, now plastered to her head, and sticking out at all sorts of improbable angles. Luke felt his already rapid pulse inappropriately jump another beat or ten.

The comm picked that blessedly opportune moment to come to life, "Jade's Fire, this is Tirgu control, you are in one piece, I see?'"

Mara looked at Luke curiously for a moment, frowning. "Jade's Fire ..." She jerked, and turned back. "Patience Yur, we'll be down with your brandy soon enough."

"Welcome back, Mara. We will lower the shield at minus 0935 on my mark."

"Got it Yur. See you soon."

She turned back to him, "You sure you're all right?"

"Fine," he was unwilling to cede any weakness. "When we link like that, you really boost my Force sense. It just takes a minute to bring it back under control." He let loose of some of the thrill he had felt, "Brushing by that big one was really wild."

Mara looked quite smug and gave him a sound clap on the arm, "I told you it would be fun. I liked racing down that canyon, good idea to grease the sides of the ship the way you did."

Luke pried at his own gummy flight suit, "I'll be glad for a real shower though."

She grinned, "Me too."

By the time they descended to the Tirgu Muresh space port, they both had cleaned up. Mara no longer looked as if she had bathed in her flight suit, and the pink flush had faded from Luke's features. Luke gathered their gear and readied Artoo, joining her in the cockpit as they received their clearance to land.

As soon as they touched down, Mara bounced up; her eagerness and enthusiasm were palpable. Right before releasing the hatch, Mara turned to him, "One more thing I forgot to mention. Don't be surprised if a Force-sensitive Verratan tries to probe you. It's not like what we are capable of; it's almost like a greeting, an attempt to identify a similarly sensitive person. Try not to overreact; if your barrier slams into someone, it will scare them to death."

Luke nodded, pretending to understand what she meant.

* * *

Chapter 5, First Impressions, Part 1

In which Luke and Mara finally get a hotel room, and share a bed. Again.

"Hey, with me stalking you, paranoia would be a perfectly rational reaction."  
"Imagine Mara, some women just have clothes in their closets."


	5. Chapter 5 First Impressions, Part 1

**_Chapter 5, First Impressions, Part 1_**

In which Luke and Mara finally get a hotel room, and share a bed. Again.

"Hey, with me stalking you, paranoia would be a perfectly rational reaction."  
"Imagine Mara, some women just have clothes in their closets."

* * *

_Geez, I wrote long chapters? Sorry for the long delay and thanks so much to those who let me know there are still some who remember this with fondness. I've been busy under my other pseudo, though I'm thinking hard about a Mara entry to the femgen ficathon. I've not written Mara in over 15 years, but what the heck, right?_

_Reading this again, I really notice the wandering point of view, how I switch between Luke and Mara even in a single scene. I wrote this before knowing that was technically bad form. I won't change it as I like some of the things the characters' specifically reflect upon and I'd lose that with a single pov. Stuff is what it is, and I always felt its rough edges were a small part of that. _

* * *

They stepped out into the fresh, afternoon Verratan sunshine. It was delightful, fragrant, clean, warm. Luke took a deep breath, the first fresh air it seemed he had enjoyed in ages.

Mara was ebullient. "The space port's not much, but it is pretty, isn't it?"

The port was indeed small. They were surrounded by three or four derelict freighters and some other smaller ships that could not have been airborne in the last ten years. Rotting camouflage netting ineffectually concealed the craft from nonexistent prying eyes. An officious, squat grey building, dotted with neat windows, and a large warehouse were the only structures. Beyond the fence demarking the port, lush, green scenery rolled into the horizon.

Luke spotted one mechanical loader and about ten scruffy, darkly dressed men, all clustered at the bottom of the ramp- the welcoming and hopefully unloading committee. Thinking of Mara's earlier statement that it was labor that was cheap here, he recognized that the ratio of person to mechanical was about the inverse of what would be expected for any other space port.

Mara ran down the ramp, and straight into the arms of a burly, grey, immensely fat, bearded man. It could, Luke thought, only be Yur. The man kissed Mara soundly on both cheeks than picked her up and swung her around.

Luke followed more sedately, with Artoo trailing behind. The other men began their ascent up the ramp, pushing by him, nodding a greeting, and courteously tipping the black caps most of them wore. They were otherwise silent, following a well-established routine. Luke could feel their idle interest, and even, strangely, amusement at his own presence; they were clearly surprised to see a droid.

Mara tore herself from Yur's all encompassing embrace, taking a step toward Luke, hand outstretched. "Come on, I want you to meet Yur."

She pulled him toward Yur, but before she could make the introduction, Luke fell under the raking, wary gaze of the older man.

Yur said nothing immediately, then let out a heavy, weary sigh. "Inta," he chided her, wagging a finger in Mara's direction, "not another one? When will you learn?"

Mara blushed to her ears; for Luke it was one of the most humorous moments ever in his association with Mara.

Mara sputtered a protest. "No Yur, really, it's not like that. This is my friend Luke. I've known him for a long time."

Luke reached out to take the older man's hand, and felt again, an intense scrutiny, and then to his astonishment, sensed Yur extend a tendril of the Force. Yur's Force sense grazed over him, not probing exactly, but judging, taking measure. Yur stood quietly, considering, then offered his own hand. "No Inta, I see that he is not like the others." Now that was an intriguing observation.

"Well my friend Luke, Tirgu Muresh welcomes you. We sorrow only that your first view of our lovely home is limited to so shabby and unimpressive a place as this port."

"Thank you. It's very nice to meet you. Mara has told me a lot about you and your family."

Yur eyed him speculatively, curving one corner of his lip up and stroking his beard. "It is interesting, is it not, young Luke that Mara has told us nothing of you?"

Yur turned to a slightly agitated Mara, and stroked her cheek tenderly with a meaty paw. "Now Inta, do not fret. We will not damage your friend. Dona has prepared a feast in honor of your return to us. Will you join us tonight?" Yur paused, including Luke in an expansive gesture, but giving a shrewd glance at Mara. "Friend, you are also invited."

"Of course, I would love to come." was Luke's prompt response.

As Mara gave Yur a clout on the arm that was barely eye level for her, Luke felt that he had just missed something important between her and Yur. "Yes, Yur, we will both be there. And in answer to your unasked question, yes, I will bring the brandy."

Yur smiled a partly toothless, crooked grin, "This shall be a wonderful night. I shall tell Dona that our corsair will dine with us, and that she will bring her friend Luke. Now, I must return to my duties." He gave Mara another squeeze and then, with a nimbleness at odds with his rotund form, trotted into the administrative building.

Mara watched him go. "Quite a character, isn't he?"

"What did he mean, I'm not like the other ones?" Luke thought he knew exactly what Yur had meant but was eager to hear Mara's attempt at an explanation.

Mara shrugged, exuding embarrassment. "He doesn't usually appreciate my taste in co-pilots." Then she was brusque, efficient again. "Would you oversee the unloading?" With a jerk of her head she gestured to the loaders beginning to emerge from the ship. "They know what to do, but someone should still be there." She pointed to the larger building. "It should all go into the bonded warehouse. I'll deal with the port authority."

Luke nodded, saying softly, "Why don't you take Artoo, see if he can plug into an access port."

"Good idea, I'll meet you back here in a few." Mara tucked a data pad and the port papers under her arm and headed into the building, Artoo in her wake.

Luke followed the cargo to the warehouse and gave the loaders the go ahead to begin storing the cartons. An elderly, gnarled man, in rough, tweedy garb, was perched on a stool, outside the warehouse - evidently the gate keeper. As Luke turned toward him, the man spat on the ground and grunted a greeting, his weathered visage reflecting a lifetime of hard work and bad dental care. Again, and even more astoundingly, from such a seemingly grubby personage, Luke felt the man extend a Force wave, as if in a bid to ascertain the stranger in their midst.

"Ya with Jade?" His accent was so viscous, Luke could barely understand him.

"Yes. May I join you, while they unload?" The man said nothing, but pulled a green bottle from under his stool and handed it to Luke. It bore no label, but smelled of wine. Not wanting to appear discourteous, Luke, with some apprehension, took a tentative swallow. It was indeed wine, and based upon the knowledge gained from thirteen days of wine tasting with Mara, Luke recognized that it was not too bad.

He crouched down on the ground, and handed the bottle back. "I'm Luke."

Rheumy, red eyes stared back at him. "Stoica."

"Good to meet you Stoica, thanks for sharing your bottle."

Stoica grunted again. "You're not like Jade's usual."

"I've heard that." They sat in silence as the loaders trooped back and forth. A large, hulking building in the distance, at Luke's line of vision, caught his attention. He pointed to it. "What's that?"

Stoica eyed him curiously. "Bacchanalia warehouse and space port."

"It's got its own port?"

Stoica nodded and Luke felt him direct harsh resentment at the distant building.

Luke stared again at the building, then reached out to sense the place through the Force. It seemed so new, incongruous and, in testing the feeling, secret, in the otherwise pastoral landscape. The building was pre-fabricated - it could only have been transported here in very large pieces and at tremendous cost. Luke started as he felt another Force touch from Stoica; there was a sharpness and wit in the man Luke had missed before. Stoica had recognized his kinship to him as another Force-sensitive.

Stoica handed him the bottle again. "Definitely not like the others."

"The Bacchanalia is new, isn't it?" Luke asked him.

Stoica spat again in disgust on the ground and nodded. "Damn Imps. Brought in their own people, built their own building, don't even use our space port so the lads can get a few credits. Nope, the Imps brought in their own, use their own, pay their own."

"What are they doing there? It's a huge facility."

Stoica gazed at him carefully, weighing, balancing, then he shrugged, held up his bottle and afforded Luke a toothless, yellow grimace. "They're selling our wine."

Luke did not have the opportunity to query Stoica further for one of the loaders interrupted him to check and count the cartons. By the time he had completed the task, the men were all clustered about, the mood, boisterous as they swilled out of bottles from Stoica's cache, apparently kept for such occasions as these. Luke imagined that there was not much activity at the port, and the unloading today probably meant some hard credits for people obviously in need of them. However stingy Mara may be with her customers, he suspected, based upon her strong views of Imperial exploitation, that she would compensate the loaders well. He hesitated and made mental contact with Mara - she seemed preoccupied, still dealing with Customs officials. Joining the gang was easily the superior alternative.

Stoica introduced him all around. Bottles were passed and they quizzed him on the latest smashball scores and team trades. Luke regretted that his own information was over three weeks old. Several made a point of repeating what had become a common refrain, that Luke was indeed not much like the "others," and if their reaction was in any way a reliable indicator, Luke bore up well under the comparison.

One sturdy, affable fellow, none the worse for a bottle already downed, clapped a companionable arm over Luke's shoulder. "First run with Jade?"

Luke noticed several smirks in his direction, and for some irrational reason, felt the need to correct this unfounded perception of Mara's proclivities. "I'm just the temp - she needed a co-pilot at the last minute, and asked me to fill in. I've known her a long time."

Another gave a gruff and knowing chuckle. "Where'd she dump the last one?"

"Rishi, I think." They all laughed.

"So you pilot much?"

"Some." Determined to keep the conversation from getting too detailed, he diverted them to another subject. "How long's that warehouse been up?" He pointed to the Bacchanalia facility. His question prompted a heated debate, and eventually the conclusion that several huge freighters had indeed delivered the building some four months previously.

"Why'd they build their own port with one here?"

Stoica had not been alone in his resentment. Angry denunciations erupted. "Don't know why." "Don't trust us." "Feed their own." "All they're do'in is sell'n wine, doesn't make any sense." "Why the big secret." These were evidently well-rehearsed complaints.

"But even if they aren't using this port, wouldn't they at least need loaders?"

One of the men bellowed indignantly, "They won't even hire us for that."

"Well, if you all aren't doing the work, who is?"

As Luke had hoped, they began reeling off names, all apparently members of Imperial families, or their off-planet retainers. Periodically, Luke injected a question about someone he had never heard of, "Where's he from?" "Which family is he with?" and "Is he from the Corellia sector?" Finally, the name he was looking for, surfaced.

"And Witt worked there too."

"Haven't seen Borkin in a while."

"Who's Borkin?"

"Came from off planet, 'bout six months ago."

When Borkin showed up in Tirgu degenerated into another dispute, before again they settled for somewhere between six and eight months previously.

Luke proffered, "I may know him. Isn't he sort of pale, brown hair, looks like his best friend just died?" As Stoica awarded him a dubious look, Luke realized that however hazy the others had become with the wine, Stoica was brightly alert and was not fooled by his ploy.

Stoica lurched with a hoarse, "That's him."

"Any idea how I could look him up?"

No one knew the answer to this query; they did not know where he lived, where "Witt" came from, or where he might have gone. Several of them were certain that Borkin had not been to the "Spot" in several weeks.

Stoica interjected, "Nosy kid. Pok'n where he shouldn't be. Ask'n questions that shouldn't be answered. Pretty obviously not what he seemed to be." He looked at Luke pointedly, and muttered softly enough that the others did not hear, "Not that you would know anything about that now would you, son?"

Luke let the matter drop, and the conversation moved onto other topics.

Mara joined them shortly thereafter, with a smile to the loaders. They tipped their caps in her direction and one of them handed her a bottle. She was a striking, impressive figure, a lone slim female among over a dozen men, glinting hair, her head tilted back as she downed several deep swallows from the bottle. The effect was lost on no one.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Thanks Danut. Dealing with those damned customs agents is thirsty work."

She turned to Luke, and he responded before she could ask, "Everything's off loaded and secured."

Mara smiled her appreciation to the assembled team, "Well, gentleman, thanks once again for your work. You can collect your credits inside. And I'll be glad to buy you all rounds at the Spot tomorrow night." They all took turns shaking her hand and then dispersed into the building in high spirits, leaving Mara and Luke standing next to Stoica still on his stool.

Taking another pull from the bottle, Mara noticed, for the first time, the distant warehouse. Luke confirmed her silent inquiry with a carefully phrased, neutral statement, "It's called the Bacchanalia warehouse and space port. Been up about four months."

She gazed at it, sensing the same things Luke had, its size, its newness, the expense implicit in those things, its secretive aura, then turned back to them, with a dazzling smile for Stoica. "So how are you Stoica? Have you been keeping my co-pilot out of trouble?"

Stoica mocked her ruse with a cackle, "Captain, if he's just a co-pilot, then you're just a Trader."

Mara's smile abruptly vanished, and Luke heard in his mind, _"What's that all about?"_

Luke replied silently to her, _"He's very sharp and Force-sensitive."_

Stoica looked from one of them to the other, and they realized that he had heard their exchange. "Quite a team you two, eh?" He laughed again. "Not to worry, children. Secrets are safe with me." Then he became more serious, gesturing them closer to his weathered, stubbled face and winey breath. "Just to save you both some trouble, your friend Borkin, better know as dim Witt, showed up here 'bout eight months ago on a freighter that had no freight when it came and none when it left. If I noticed it, someone else probably did too. He was a pest; asked a lot of questions and had credits to buy everyone drinks even when he didn't have a job. He did finally get work as a loader at Bacchanalia and no one's heard from him since."

Stoica retrieved his bottle from Mara, took a long gulp, leaned back in his chair, and pulled his black cap over his eyes. "Gonna nap now til the next ship comes in."

Mara gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Thanks Stoica, sleep well."

They left him dozing in the warm sun, legs outstretched, chair tipped back, nose and mouth upright. A peaceful and very loud snore erupted.

Luke cracked, "Do you suppose he passed out from all the wine, or just doesn't want to talk to us anymore?"

"Couldn't say. I sure don't want to ask him." She tugged his elbow. "Come on, let's close the ship down, gather our gear."

"Any problem with the Customs office?"

Mara gave an impatient flick of her hand. "Just the usual bureaucrats. No problems with the dump either. I told them I wanted to plug in and get the trading price list directly and look at recent port entries so I'd know my competition. They weren't crazy about the idea, but they couldn't really say no. It should all be public information." She continued in a more admiring tone, "I can't understand a thing it says, but your unit was at it a while. I will say, it does show a lot of initiative. It probably copied everything in the computer."

They went up the ramp, and into the ship. She added, "Let's head forward first. There are a couple things we need to do there. Did you get anything?"

"You heard most of it. Stoica is obviously very perceptive. Does he ever leave that spot?"

As they pushed into the cabin, Mara peered out through the view screen at the still, apparently slumbering, figure. "Probably not."

"I'm glad you warned me about the probing. Both he and Yur gave me the once over."

Mara swung around in surprise, "Really? I suppose it's because you're new here. Did you at least avoid smashing into them?"

Mara got the rejoinder her question merited. "No actually I made a point of flinging them both across the port, didn't you notice?"

She made a face at him. "You are so witty."

"Speaking of wit, or the lack of it... " Luke trailed off.

Mara finished the thought somberly, "It doesn't sound good does it?"

Luke uttered a disgusted humph. "Sounds like sheer incompetence to me. The loaders all complained that Bacchanalia wasn't hiring anyone local. You've got to wonder how Borkin got a job there. He probably walked right into it."

"They, whoever, they are, probably had him nailed the minute he landed." They were both subdued, mulling the disturbing ramifications. Luke began calling up coordinates on the navicomputer. "We'd better..."

Mara finished this sentence. "Yeah, it's a standard procedure for me, but make sure we do it. If we have to leave in a hurry, we may not have the luxury of dallying while the navicomputer gives us a safe jump."

There was no joking, no sarcasm, no button pushing here. Work was work, play was play, and neither of them, when it really mattered, had survived this long by confusing the two. After studying the readouts, Luke found a good spot, a short distance out, and entered the coordinates.

Mara concentrated on shutting down the principal systems. She then reached under the console and disengaged her slave circuit control, staring at it, attempting to identify what had driven her to the decision she had just made. She held the remote out to him. "I don't normally do this, but I think you should know the slaver sequence."

Luke watched as she punched in a series. "Got it?" He nodded.

"I'll keep the slaver on me at all times. If you need to, you can call up the ship. Its range will extend to all of Tirgu. On Corellia, when the Human League jammed the signals, I was still able to bring the ship to where Leia and I were by comlaser remote. If the ship's in visual range, use this command sequence. It will activate the beam, and you can fly her to you." She demonstrated. He took the slaver from her and repeated both sequences.

"Good." She took the circuit control back and slipped it into her pocket.

"Do you think we made a mistake using my first name?"

Mara drummed her fingers on the console. "Well, I never intended to call you Skywalker around here, no matter how aggravating you got." She gave him a wry glance. "I guess you'll get your wish at least, I'll be using your first name. Did you sense any suspicion or recognition?"

"No. They do know I'm not your usual co-pilot type."

He made the statement factually, no irony or humor intended and Mara inferred none in her acknowledgment. "Can't help that now. I still don't think it's a problem. Your face hasn't been plastered across the nets or gossip pages the last few years, so actually seeing you isn't likely to jog any recent memories."

Luke sighed wearily. "You get hunted for so long, you do tend to get a little paranoid."

"Hey, with me stalking you, paranoia would be a perfectly rational reaction." She continued more soberly, "Can you think of any reason why your being here would matter to anybody? It's not as if there are any dark Jedi Masters or Emperor clones out there looking for new disciples."

Luke added, "You said yourself, there's no bounty on me. Still, anyone who knows their Thrawn histories would certainly be suspicious."

"Sure, in the Core, I doubt either of us would exactly be able to do uncover work. But around here, it's assumed I harbor Imperial tendencies - people would not think I would be hanging around someone who's been on a Hero of the Rebellion trading card." She shook her head, "If that latest Tales story had shown here, I would be more concerned."

Luke gave a bark of laughter. "Who would believe that trash?"

"You'd be surprised. I'm sure that last episode has fueled the rumors about us that have circulated for a long time in some circles. Just be thankful it hasn't traveled this far."

"What kind of rumors?"

She shrugged. "The sorts of things that are probably in my NRI file and yours as well. The kind of manipulative garbage that is being used to string the billions along who are waiting for the next Tales episode." Mara sighed irritably. "We'll have some damage control to do when we get back."

It was Luke's turn to be irritated. "I'm getting really annoyed at the number of people apparently so interested in my personal life."

Mara scowled. "Your personal problems were why I couldn't get a decent night's sleep for three weeks, why your brother-in-law called me up in the middle of the night to go hold your hand, and the whole reason Vader decided to drop by for a visit."

"I guess I had forgotten that," Luke muttered apologetically, still wondering at her enduring anger at his father's perceived invasion. He returned to the subject at hand. "So we don't think that my being here is likely to trigger an Imperial manhunt, right?" As Mara nodded reluctantly, he verbalized what she had been thinking, "Then why are we so worried?"

He sat quietly, trying to pinpoint his nagging concern, the sense of foreboding that had quietly crept up behind him. To explore this growing unease further he focused inward, finding and opening himself to the possible avenues of the future. He felt Mara observing, and then stretch out through the Force to make the journey with him- although this was a skill Palpatine had denied her, she was able to augment his own awareness.

Yet, even with the clarity she lent to his visions, the images were confused, and what was revealed offered no comfort. Blood, pain, fire, fear, a cold, searching menace, the ship roaring to life in a dark night, the sounds of shouting and blaster fire, an explosion, the acrid odor of burned flesh.

As the montage ended, neither spoke at first, considering, interpreting what the Force had shown them. Luke stood, "We both have our lightsabers. If we're done up here, we'd better check your weapons closet."

Mara keyed the closet open, taking her favorite wrist holster down from its assigned place. Pulling her sleeve up, she slapped it on her arm and, with practiced ease, began the awkward maneuvers required to strap a wrist holster on with only one hand. As Mara grabbed the upper strap with her teeth to hold it in place, Luke took her arm, straightened it at the elbow, and hooked the upper strap into the right gusset. He repeated the movement with the lower strap, and then fingered the holster, trying to shift it on her arm.

"Too tight?" Red hair tumbled as she shook her head _no_. Reaching into the closet, Luke took one of Mara's compact little blasters off the shelf. "I recognize this." He confirmed the power pack was fully charged and handed it to her. She turned it back and forth, eyeing the safety, the barrel, the triggering, peered through the sight, and then hefted it into the sheath. Luke pulled her sleeve back down, and Mara flexed her arm, testing the blaster's weight and ride in the holster.

"Feels good. We'll bring the extra."

Luke took the other one down, repeating the check of the power supply and physical integrity. "What else do you have?"

She grimaced. "Not a whole lot. I've never thought I needed it for this run."

They found three detonators, a concussion grenade, a canister of tearing gas and two explosion kits, not really lethal, but containing fuses, mini-detonators and enough bang to take out pesky obstacles.

As he surveyed the piled weaponry, Luke quipped, "Imagine Mara, some women just have clothes in their closets."

Mara, sitting cross-legged on the deck, was engrossed in carefully confirming the internal pressure of the gas in the canister. She replied absently, "That's me, always prepared for a good time."

"Looks like I'll finally get the chance to party with you." He joined her on the deck and began testing the fail-safes and charges on the detonators and grenade.

"I told you before I'm a fun person." Satisfied that the pressure gauge was showing an accurate read in acceptable ranges, Mara looked up from her work to the slightly rumpled figure sitting across from her on the deck. She watched, captivated by Luke's delicate, confident handling of the grenade. She added, "Anyone who brings a thermal detonator to a party is fun in my book."

He glanced up at her with a roguish grin, "It's a new variation on the old BYOB."

So suddenly perceiving in Luke, the old combination of brash and deadly intensity, Mara unexpectedly felt a warm clutch in her gut, unfamiliar to her now only because of the man who had just prompted it. "Bring your own...?"

Luke bent over again, "Bomb." In a swift, fluid movement he lobbed the grenade at her, and she caught it in one hand, the explosive contacting her hand with a firm slap.

"Just think Skywalker, some men give women flowers."

He reached for one of the detonators, and began turning it over carefully verifying that the charges were still live. "Well, if I see a really nice blaster, and you're good, maybe I'll buy it for you."

Mara stood, thinking it very perverse that at that moment she might have actually preferred flowers. Feeling an acute need for a diversion from these disturbing thoughts, she focused instead on fishing out a skein of rope, a glow lamp, comm links and several grappling hooks as he continued the check of their other gear.

Luke had finished with the explosives and was beginning to pack them when he caught an inexplicable flash from Mara. She was staring at two gas masks she had pulled from the closet. At first he thought she was remembering their escapades with the mask from earlier, but as quickly dismissed the absurdly romantic notion. She was intent, searching, serious and then abruptly reached into the closet and grabbed two more masks.

"Don't ask me to explain it, I can't." She was almost defensive.

"No explanations needed," Luke said quietly, "I understand."

"I had the same feeling during part of your vision - the same cold, threat."

"Then we'd be fools to ignore it." He turned back to finish stowing the gear.

* * *

Yur rejoined them as Mara was showing Luke the lock down sequence for the ship. The big man was effusive and Stoica still slumbering. Yur was quite eager to break into the heavy crate Mara had kept aside containing his yet to be paid for brandy. His enthusiasm notwithstanding, she was able to exhort a promise from him to not open more than one bottle until they arrived for dinner.

On learning that Luke and Mara had decided to walk the modest three kilometers into town, Yur then delivered a windy lecture on the important sites to be seen. He recounted the Village Museum, where one could behold historical reproductions of the houses of Tirgu Muresh and the other cities of Verrat; the Farming Museum, where one could review a history of agriculture on Verrat; the Wine Museum, where once could sample the fine vintages of Tirgu; the ruins of Founders' Hall; the ruins of a Verrat Temple; the ruins of the first port and commercial center; the ruins of the site on which the first colonists landed; the city central park; and various other sites of even less compelling tourist interest.

Mara had obviously heard the tour before, and Luke could sense her amused tolerance in sitting through it one more time. To Luke, who had indeed seen much of the beauty and excitement of the galaxy, Yur's immense pride in even these objects of seeming dubious historical value was both admirable and poignant, underscoring how little the Imperial occupation had left for the Verratans themselves.

Mara gently assured Yur that she would indeed at least point out these important historical treasures to "friend Luke." Only then were they able to extricate themselves from Yur's inexhaustible instruction.

The walk was indeed an astounding experience, although certainly not for the extensive reasons Yur had recounted. Recalling Mara's explanation that Verrat permitted the Imperials to return to some ancient colonial past, the journey was one, not only of distance, but also in time. There were few vehicles, and the ones that seemed to actually be running, as opposed to merely rusting on the roadside, were decrepit. Luke was amazed to see even animal labor in use, plowing fields, being ridden, or pulling makeshift carts. It was not, in his experience, typical for yesh, shaggy quadruped ruminants, to be shuffling along the main highway between a space port and a population center. But the logic of their use on Verrat was inescapable - there were no replacement parts, you could grow rather than import the fuel, and it was possible to make a new one before an old one broke down.

Even forewarned of the Imperial lavish profligacy, nothing could have prepared him for the mansions that dotted the roadside. The homes, if buildings so large could fairly be characterized as such, peeked out from behind imposing walls and screens of trees. They sported gigantic facades of stone and wood, turrets, windows stretching from the ground to three and four stories up - everything about them was outsized and proudly ostentatious. Gaudy, opulent, and pretentious, the massive, multi-tier, rambling structures were testaments to the universal truth that money is not a guarantor of taste.

Something was obviously missing from the picture of colonial grandeur. "Where do the Verratans live?"

Mara looked in distaste at a particularly offensive blight on the landscape. "The Imps razed the Verratan homes to build these things. The Verratans now live where the work is, near the farms, and outside the security perimeter."

The road took them straight through the central gate of the quaint walled city of Tirgu Muresh. By way of orientation, Mara cautioned him that although getting from place to place was not difficult, finding a particular destination was fiendishly challenging, both because the street names changed every few blocks, and because the Imperials had renamed the streets after their revered military commanders, planetary governors and emperors. There were no fewer than ten different streets incorporating the word "Palpatine." The native population however, in willful, subtle protest, continued to call the streets by their old names, and could do so in either Basic or Verratan. Asking for directions was, therefore a navigational gamble.

This instruction in city geography degenerated into an argument when Luke loftily observed that he had never been lost and would never need to ask for directions. Mara berated him for this arrogance, believing that the issue was not that Jedi Masters are natural navigators, but that men would prefer to waste time wandering for an hour rather than risk admitting that they are lost and asking someone for directions.

They ceased squabbling only because the thronging commotion on the main boulevard made any heated dispute impossible. Their destination in the city center required traversing the Imperial Avenue of Palpatine, which on this day, was a bustling hive of commercial activity, an exotic melding of agricultural fair, livestock auction and wine festival. Verratans had erected squalid little kiosks along the avenue and were briskly trading in local products- produce, wine, flowers, meats, cheeses, wood working, pottery, and other handcrafts. The dealing Verratans were shouting at one another, gesticulating wildly. Those not occupied in such good natured, albeit voluble, life and death bargaining were encamped on street corners, in the back of yesh carts or outside kiosks drinking tiny cups of cups of tea, and much larger glasses of wine. The lowing, clucking, nipping and swishing livestock on the street added to the chaos.

In contrast to the free wheeling bargaining in local commodities that crowded the sidewalks and spilled into the streets, immaculate stores lining the pavement were devoted to Imperial business. Delicacies and rarities from across the galaxy were artfully displayed in storefront windows. Through the windows, impeccable clerks and their stiff customers engaged in a more civilized parody of the earnest barter occurring only steps away.

Mara dawdled in front of the Imperial store displays, studying the products, comparing them to her own goods. In keeping with the tenet that if you have to ask, it is too expensive, few of the products displayed indicated pricing. The prices she did see were very encouraging - the fish eggs and spirits she espied seemed to be commanding a much higher price than what she recalled from previous runs.

After being buffeted by indignant poultry and nearly sandwiched between a kiosk and a slow moving yesh, Luke interrupted her calculations with a gasp, "Is it always this insane?"

Mara surveyed the commotion spread out before them, stepping lightly to avoid a pile of squished vegetables. "This is a pretty typical market day, but prices seem higher to me."

The traffic thickened to nearly impassable density as they neared the city center. It became a contest of will and speed to duck the gap toothed Verratans thrusting dead birds, produce and suspect pottery at them; they began repeating as a continual mantra "_No thank you, not interested, thank you, but no."_

The middle of such a carnival seemed an improbable location for the only hotel in town, and it was with great relief that they finally pushed their way through the crowd to the front steps of the "The Hotel Imperial." With a nod to the unprepossessing name, Mara said, "It's not as bad as the name would suggest. Beats another night on the ship and the bar's open late."

As they entered through a revolving door, in itself an oddity in a galaxy operating on panels and slides, the noise and tumult abruptly dimmed. The lobby was strikingly old fashioned - a gracefully arched portico, polished wood, stone and brass fixtures, worn rugs over stone, and richly covered, but slightly shabby overstuffed furniture. The overall effect was one of strained, battered elegance. Luke had to help Artoo negotiate the revolving door, and then caught up with Mara at the counter.

The clerk, a middle aged, precise and decorous man, was, Luke realized, the first native Verratan he had seen who did not have broken and dirty fingernails. He was all smiles for Mara.

"Welcome back, Captain Jade. It is a pleasure to have you among our guests again."

"No cazut i shtea, Adran. It's nice to be back."

Adran squinted slightly, looking over Mara's shoulder, and with a comprehending glance, taking in Luke's presence behind her. "Your usual room Captain?"

Mara hesitated, and Luke was amused to feel her rising discomfort at that simple, no doubt normally routine, question. He could not wait to see how she would handle this one. Just to gall her, Luke caught Adran's eye, stepped closer to Mara, and made a point of putting his hand on her shoulder. Adran looked at the hand, then back at Mara, his face impassive and unreadable.

"No, Adran." She tried lightly shrugging off his hand, but Luke held fast. "Two rooms, at least one with an access port and display."

The temptation was too great. Luke chimed in, "But please see that they are adjoining." As cool as Mara normally was under pressure, her blast of suppressed outrage was all the more potent. He was going to catch hell for this, but boy was it fun.

Adran gave Mara no opportunity to issue a countermand, however awkward it may have appeared. The adroit clerk immediately produced two key cards. She managed, barely, to keep her composure through the registration process.

"Thank you Captain Jade, enjoy your stay. One of the stewards will bring your bags up."

Feeling Adran's gaze as they moved away from the counter, Luke took the game a step further, slipping his hand to the small of Mara's back, as if steering her toward the lift. As they entered the lift and turned, Luke broadly winked at the observant clerk, and as the door slid shut, he was rewarded with a crack in the formal little man's stern demeanor as Adran's shoulders and head jumped in muffled merriment.

Luke's own amusement was fleeting. As soon as the door closed, Mara seized his left hand and yanked his fore and middle fingers apart in an abrupt and very painful snap. "What the hell was that all about?" she demanded angrily.

Luke was shaking his hand and wondering if maybe she had broken a bone. "Hey, it's not my fault if you're suddenly having to demonstrate your new found virtue to every Verratan you meet."

"Adjoining rooms? I was going to ask him to put you in the basement."

"What Mara, afraid you can't handle us Gamorreans any closer than that?" Mara turned absolutely scarlet with rage, which fortunately she was unable to vent on his remaining fingers because the lift stopped to admit more passengers.

Mara's ire only escalated when they found their rooms on the fourth floor and learned that the corroded ancient lock on the common door separating them had long since abandoned any functional purpose. With that discovery Mara expressed her displeasure by tripping Luke from behind and flipping him to the floor. She awarded him a snide, "Too bad you're not wet," stalked into her own room and slammed the door, its rusted lock rattling ominously, but futilely.

Luke just lay on the floor for a time nursing his bruised hand and shoulder. He had fallen on his elbow, and the shooting pains up his arm did not lessen immediately. He really should learn to respect her volatility - it was not so much the temper that was the problem, it was the pain that frequently accompanied her outbursts. With landing, he had thought fewer opportunities for Mara-baiting would present themselves. Even a Jedi Master could still be wrong about some things.

Artoo rolled over to him, his dome swiveling and emitting what Luke interpreted as whistles of concern. A man, his droid, a raving bitch lunatic and adjoining hotel rooms that could not be locked- it was a predicament worthy of Duke. He wondered what Duke would do in such circumstances, and concluded that emulating the super hero's example would mean his own rapid demise by some excruciating means. More circumspection in Mara's training may have been called for. She had been formidable before their work. He was no longer certain that his own once superior skills would save him if Mara were in a truly lethal mood.

Time for a gesture of good will. "Why don't you roll on into her room, find an access port, and start going through the trading data? If prices have risen as much as she thinks, it should improve her temper, and may preserve my limbs."

Artoo issued another worried whistle. It was remarkable that an entity capable of communicating only in a binary language could convey such a range of emotion. Even without Threepio around, Luke thought he understood the little droid's anxiety - he frequently shared it in Mara's company. "Don't worry. Even if prices have fallen, I don't think she would deactivate you just to spite me." Luke thought a moment further. "But just to be certain you don't get caught in any crossfire, don't go into her room until after I go."

Luke stumbled to his feet - time to go exploring, without a map, and leave the Master Trader to her profiteering.

* * *

Mara, lying on her bed and staring at the canopy, heard Luke leave. She had been fervently wishing upon him a variety of nasty punishments, - his fair features trampled by a yesh cart somewhere near the bottom of the list, and plucking out his fingernails one by one near the top. As Skywalker's little astromech pushed through the door into her room, she shifted quickly, dropped her blaster into her hand, and contemplated the pleasure of just blasting the thing into the street. Although it was amusing to see the droid twist in apprehension at the blaster she had trained on its vital parts, she did not want to pay the damage deposit to the hotel, and did want the data it was carrying in its rusted guts.

She sheathed the blaster. "Oh, come on in. Despite what he might have told you, I'm not going to convert you to scrap and slag. Go plug in, and let's see what's going on."

Mara joined the droid at the computer terminal. "Let's start with prices - give me the most recent prices on each of the goods I've got, then we'll compare those prices with the sale prices from my last three trips, and my costs for the goods and then we'll compute the percentage changes."

The rodents running on the treadmill, or whatever the aged hotel computer used as a power source, whirred to life. The exasperating Skywalker was forgotten as she began studying the entries with a critical eye, and then mounting elation. Prices were high, very, very high. Her initial reaction had not been wrong, and this promised to be a very profitable trip.

* * *

The sky outside was dark and the room dim when Luke returned a few hours later. He quietly stood in the doorway between their rooms, admiring the carnage. Mara was sprawled on the bed, on her stomach, her back to him, bare feet swaying back and forth. Data pads and printouts were strewn about her and on the floor. Artoo was plugged into the access port, numbers and figures scrolling by on the terminal.

"Now I'm trying still to get a fix on any demand changes." Luke realized she was speaking to Artoo. "Compare for my top ten selling products, the total amount of product estimated to have been imported quarterly over the last two standard years, any information on excess inventories and then extrapolate the estimated demand for the same product in the interval between this and my last trip."

She did not turn around, but continued, without pausing for breath, "Well, don't just stand there, farm boy. Get over here and take a look at what's going to make me rich."

Luke crossed the room. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to read in the dark?" He used a Force nudge to turn on the overhead light, pulled his shoes off, and joined her, lying across the width of the bed.

"Uh, thanks, I didn't notice it had gotten dark." She did not glance up from the data pad.

He inched over and forward on his stomach like a limbless reptile to get a better view of the pad. "What did you find?"

Mara keyed a command into the pad, and columns appeared. She ran her finger down the row. "Comparing the prices I charged for these goods during my last trip to the prices now being paid for the same or similar goods, we are looking at increases on average of 50%. As you can see, averages being what they are, many are even higher."

Luke followed her fingertip along the column. "You said prices can fluctuate, and you were last here over 200 days ago, are these kinds of increases typical?"

Mara opened another file, and the two screens of information appeared side by side, permitting a comparison. "These are the increases I have seen historically, over the last five years." As he compared the figures, she continued, "Prices on the whole have risen, and there are some blips and aberrant bumps but ..."

"Never that high, or that fast."

"Or, most importantly across so many categories of products."

Mara turned her head to look at him; her eyes were pitted, lined with red, her hair coiled into a bedraggled knot. She had rolled up, pulled down, and otherwise mostly twisted her flight suit around her body. Such uncharacteristic disarray had obviously resulted from a single-minded, methodical attack on the puzzle before her. He did not need any Force sensitivity to read her smug satisfaction, intense eagerness and overlaying it all, fatigue. "Have you been at this all afternoon?"

She waved him off impatiently. "The thing we have to ask ourselves is why the increase?"

Luke sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Prices usually go up for two reasons, increase in demand or decrease in supply." He stopped, feeling her excitement rise another notch. "And can I assume from that predatory gleam in your eye that those manifests you got from the Customs office indicate that supplies of much sought after Imperial delicacies have not declined in the last seven standard months?"

As she nodded vigorously, the precarious knot came apart, releasing her hair in webby tangles. Her sharp mind plunging ahead with no time to waste on such niceties, she tied the mass into another messy twist. "With no appreciable change in supply, I've been trying to estimate whether there have been any particular increases in demand to account for the increase in prices. When there are no records of purchases, for instance sales, consumption or luxury taxes, it's hard to guess if consumers are buying more products. But so far, we haven't found evidence of a large party, event or fad, a move to hoard goods, or anything else that would result in such a jump in demand for goods across the board."

Privately noting her unusual use of the word "we" to no doubt include Artoo, Luke thought a moment about the implications of her observations. "So if there is no increase in demand, or decrease in supply to explain the prices, the only explanation is . . . ."

Mara interrupted him, and they finished the sentence in tandem, "An increase in credits."

Mara rolled over and sat up, resting her chin on her knees and hugging her legs tight. "It looks like a classic inflationary model - too many credits chasing too few goods, and it's driving prices for the goods up."

"And with the constraints here, the normal correcting factors can't operate - taking credits out of circulation or bringing in more goods."

Mara cocked her head at him in a lopsided grin, "I'll make a trader out of you yet Skywalker. There's still hope for you if you ever decide to leave the jungle and join the rest of us out here."

Her oblique compliment merited a chuckle, "What a ringing endorsement, I didn't know I was such a project."

"So having figured out this economic puzzle . . .."

"And not incidentally resulting in enormous profits for you."

Mara flashed a wicked smile. "As an opportunist in matters of money, I have no intention of letting this opportunity pass by unexploited. But as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, why are so many credits ending up in Imp hands for the purchase of luxury goods? I thought it could be counterfeit, but . . .."

Luke shook his head adamantly, "It's not only very hard to do, it's very easy to detect with the right equipment." He paused. "What we are seeing may be the same phenomenon Borkin claimed he found with Bacchanalia, evidence of a lot of excess cash in Tirgu."

Mara, still wound into a tight little ball, toppled over onto her side. She muttered into the bed. "Question is, where is all this new found wealth coming from?"

Luke had to turn his head and body sideways to try to maintain the conversation; her peculiar contortions were unnerving. "Could whatever is going on at Bacchanalia be causing the infusion of credits?"

As Mara twisted around again, stretching out to reach the floor and rummage among the printouts, he asked "Or maybe the activity in the Bacchanalia account isn't the cause, but just one of the effects?"

Mara selected one of the printouts and clambered back onto the bed. She flopped next to him, settling against the headboard with a crunch and an inarticulate grunt. "This is a summary of all outgoing product manifests reported to Tirgu Customs over the last year."

Luke leaned over to study it. "Not much until about four months ago." He went further down the list. "Well here's Bacchanalia . . ." He stopped, lifted the cover page in her hands to behold a long list of shipments, and whistled appreciatively.

Mara nodded her agreement. "They've been busy, haven't they?"

Luke pried the printout from her and started counting. "If these manifests are accurate, Bacchanalia is shipping hundreds of cases of Verratan wine a week. Mara, who would be willing to buy that much Verratan wine? It's not that good, is it?"

"Don't ever tell a Verratan that. They are very proud of their wine. But no, you are right, it's good, but not that good. I think it's indistinguishable from the lesser vintages of a dozen worlds."

Luke returned to his review of the shipping manifest. "Did you notice the values Bacchanalia is declaring for the wine - looks like, ahh, around two hundred or so credits per case. That seems pretty unremarkable to me."

Mara yawned mightily, looking over his shoulder. "It is. It's not particularly high, but it's not absurdly low either. Of course, we don't know what they are selling it for on the open market, but at these values, once you factor in the costs to export, there is a lot of wine out there that is cheaper than anything from Verrat, and of higher quality. If there had been the demand to cover the cost and expense to export it, I would have done it years ago."

Luke tossed the manifest aside in frustration. "Besides, even if Bacchanalia was somehow getting rich selling hundreds of cases of mediocre wine, I don't see how that could translate into the kind of credit flood we think we are seeing."

Mara banged against the headboard again with a gusty humph and shut her eyes. "None of this makes any sense to me. Maybe the manifests are forged . . . ."

Luke added, "Or Borkin was right, and Bacchanalia is smuggling, but using the wine for cover."

Mara listed to one side, rubbing her bleary eyes. "Yeah, but apart from the simple expense of getting to a place this remote, have you seen anything here so valuable it's worth risking the belt for?"

Luke looked hard into the drained, pale face. "Are you up for the dinner tonight? You look beat."

"No, I'll be fine. I think the stress of the run is finally catching up to me." Mara yawned again.

Luke grabbed a pillow, set it next to him, then put an arm around her shoulder, and gently tipped her over, bringing her weary head down to rest. "Why don't you catch a nap? I want to look at the rest of this data. We aren't due at Yur's for another two hours."

Mara resisted for a fraction of a second before collapsing into an inelegant heap. "Okay." Her breathing settled into the even rhythm of sleep a few minutes later.

Luke continued his review of the manifest, retrieving the other data pads and printouts, without disturbing the quiet, slumbering pile at his side. He saw the same things she had. No interruption in the supply of sought-after Imperial rarities that would justify the rocketing prices; no obvious event that could trigger a surge in demand for so many products. Hoarding made no sense; if for some reason the Imperial population had become nervous, they would have just left, not gone on a buying binge.

He also reviewed outgoing passenger lists hoping for a clue to the failure of the net. Based upon a sudden spike in passenger traffic four standard months ago, he thought he had found the approximate time the failures might have occurred. They would need more information, hopefully from Yur, before they would be able to piece together a complete picture of that part of the mystery.

And speaking of mysteries, he put down the printouts and turned his attention to Mara. Her face was turned away, his view limited to her fine, strong profile, and a fall of hair, still pulled into a ratty twist. He poised his hand over her supine form, and then relented to the impulse thwarted so many other times during the flight. He softly loosened the knot at her neck, running his fingers through the smooth, silky tangles. With the caresses, Luke felt, as he had feared he would, a renewed twinge, an unfolding that bitter disillusionment, years of ascetic deprivation, and even the burden of simple age had all but permanently crushed.

So the rumormongers of the galaxy had linked the two of them - they no doubt both assumed too much, and understood too little. Luke knew the pendulum, at least for him, was swinging again. Mara's angry outbursts, her impetuous moods, and especially those occasional unguarded moments were, he thought, betraying a similar confusion. The Tales of Duke and Tara did not do justice to the delicate, exquisite struggle of their namesakes.

Twining his fingers lightly in her hair, brushing her collar, temple, the line of her back and hip with a whispered touch, he at last confronted the paradox. Control, focus, peace, serenity, these were the way for a Jedi; all were wholly incompatible with the almost forgotten sensations stirred by the tempest beside him, now only momentarily becalmed. The power he had seen in her, that was so like his own, that he had badgered her to develop and trained her to use, was what most drew him to her, and was the very thing most perilous to him. Luke could see no escape from that inexorable conclusion.

He sighed and tipped his head back, gazing at the tattered canopy, tracing the fading, dusty pattern in the worn fabric. The life long battle against the Dark Side permitted no such vulnerability, left him no room for emotion for someone like Mara. It was far better for a Jedi to simply kill desire than attempt to sort through the potentially dire consequences of acting on it. With the ease that had come only with long practice, he quelled the brief flicker she had kindled, extinguishing the feeling before it could spread. Gathering up the printouts, he left her to sleep.

* * *

Chapter 6, First Impressions, Part 2

"I say we go back to the hotel," she paused, leading him on, even though he knew exactly where she was going.  
"Okay, then what?"  
She stopped fidgeting. "And get Artoo."  
"And?"  
"Go break some laws."


	6. Chapter 6 First Impressions, Part 2

**_Chapter 6, First Impressions, Part 2_**

"I say we go back to the hotel," she paused, leading him on, even though he knew exactly where she was going.  
"Okay, then what?"  
She stopped fidgeting. "And get Artoo."  
"And?"  
"Go break some laws."

* * *

Mara rapped on the adjoining door with her foot, her hands simultaneously occupied with pulling on one shoe, taming her hair, and fastening jewelry. "You about ready?"

The door swung, and Skywalker was standing there in fulfillment of her worst nightmares, scrubbed, shaved, in mostly pressed clothing and carrying a bouquet of flowers.

Before Mara could stammer an appropriate rejoinder, he smirked, "I told you before I'll get you a blaster. These are for our hostess."

Mara recovered quickly. "That's a very thoughtful gesture, and very appropriate." She limped across the room for the other shoe. "Make sure to count the blooms, there should only be an odd number."

"Local custom?"

"It's bad luck to give an even number of flowers to someone." Retrieving the shoe, and finishing her final adjustments in front of a mirror, she could see him counting the bouquet. In the reflection, Luke pulled one long blue flower out of the bunch, stared at it a moment, and then set it on the table.

As she pivoted around again to face him, Luke gave her an appraising look, prompting her to ask, "Well?"

"That's interesting, I don't think I've ever seen you in a skirt before."

Mara struck her head with the flat of her hand in dumb amazement. "If we are ever going to find you a girlfriend, you are going to have to do better than that. 'Interesting,' is not a compliment. For future reference, neither is 'different,' 'unusual,' or 'unique.' If I have to give you advice on social dating conventions, you are going to have to up my commission to 25% Now try again, you obviously need the practice."

He grinned, a little abashed, "Why Mara, you look very nice."

"Thank you." Shrugging into an over tunic, which conveniently and not coincidentally concealed both her utility belt and her wrist holster, Mara circled around him. "You look quite presentable too, Luke." She drawled his name out just to prove she could do it. "But," she tugged the shoulder of his jacket straight, "this is a little big for you."

"Hey, it's all borrowed rags. If you don't like it, just make sure your next co-pilot wears my size."

Heading down to the hotel transport, Luke told her about his afternoon, "I found the Sunspot Cantina, and without a map."

Mara fired back, "Yes, but did you get lost trying to find it, and did more than an hour pass before you asked directions?"

As they entered the lift, he granted her a little victory, "Yes to both."

"Did you make contact with Kyle?"

He shook his head, "I had a glass, told them I was your co-pilot, asked a few questions. None of them know a Dazern Kyle; even the bartender hadn't heard of her."

As they left the lift, and crossed the lobby, Mara frowned, "I don't like the sound of that."

"One thing that was strange. They thought maybe I had the wrong name. Kyle is apparently an Imp family name. It is one of the lesser families, but they all thought it was hilarious that any Imperial woman would show up at the Spot."

The speeder and its courteous Verratan driver were waiting to take them to the North Tunnel of Tirgu. Mara had explained that tunnels under the city connected the shielded city proper from the unshielded Verratan villages and the farms. The Remschi's were not far from the North Tunnel; they would be able to walk back to the hotel at the end of the evening. As the ancient vehicle belched to life, Mara interrupted the driver before he was able to begin what promised to be a prolonged lecture on the beauties of Tirgu Muresh by night, "Does Bacchanalia have an office in the city?"

"Oh yes, Captain Jade, not far from here, off the Via of the Vines."

She whispered to Luke, "That's now the Grand Moff Avenue. Do you want to check it out? We have the time, and I thought it might be 'interesting.'" She lightly accented the last word.

Luke ignored her good humored jibe, "I was going to make the same suggestion."

Mara asked the driver, "Can we stop there, please? My co-pilot and I want to see if they need a ship for a run."

Their driver was nothing if not obliging, and informative. Executing a belabored turn, he said, "I will of course take you there immediately, Captain. I'm sorry to say, though that I do not believe Bacchanalia will be interested in your excellent and reputable services." He finished wistfully, "Like all else, they have hired their own pilots from off planet."

The speeder lurched to a stop at a modest store front a few blocks from the hotel. Although it was full dark, and early evening, the streets were still busy with pedestrian and yesh traffic, last minute shopping and trading. The "Bacchanalia Trading Company SRL" sign was brightly lit.

As they moved toward the door, Mara whispered, "I should probably do the talking. Why don't you scope out the place, and try to get a feel for what's going on? Remember, there may a Force sensitive in there."

He held the door for her, and Mara strode into the busy office. Ten people, all clanging away on computer terminals stopped as one to gaze at the newcomers. A short, greasy man, oozed up to them before they were halfway into the foyer. He extended his hand first to Mara, and as she took it, Luke could feel her strong, distasteful reaction.

"How may I help you?"

Mara was crisp and polite. "I'm Captain Jade of the certified Trading Alliance ship Jade's Fire. This is my co-pilot." Luke nodded, but said nothing.

"I am very pleased to meet you Captain. I am Eugen Vitz, the office manager, welcome to The Bacchanalia Trading Company. How may I help you?" he repeated.

Luke could smell the tension as Vitz broke out into a nervous sweat. Luke's regard for Mara's dissembling edged up another notch as she sparkled one of her winning, oh so genuine smiles at Vitz.

"Actually, sir, I am here to ask if there is anything the Jade's Fire can do for you. We arrived in system today, and will be leaving in three days. I never like to leave with an empty hold and have not yet had the opportunity to do business with your company. I would like to negotiate a trading run with you. I have traded here for many years and can provide you with excellent references."

During her pleasant offer, Luke, remembering the lesson from Stoica, gently, slowly opened himself to the Force. Not sensing any other Force users, he cautiously reached out with the heightened awareness it gave him. He met a wall of anxious fear and grating animosity.

Even as he took a step back from the impact of that hostile reaction, Vitz began steering them backwards toward the door.

"Of course, Captain Jade. We so appreciate your interest." Vitz moved even closer to Mara, forcing her to withdraw further. He smiled, revealing a row of sharp, yellow teeth. "Unfortunately, we have already retained sufficient cargo space with our existing carriers for the next six standard months. Perhaps you should contact us then?"

Having pushed her almost to the exit, Mara halted her retreat so firmly, Vitz bumped into her. She extended her hand with another smile, forcing him to step away from her in order to return the polite gesture. "Thank you, Mr. Vitz. I will indeed check in with Bacchanalia on my next run here. Also, should you find that your needs change in the interim, contact any of the major brokers here, Buchu, Corydalis, or Rhuta. They can put you in touch with me. And," she promptly produced a holocard, "this is my card. I look forward to doing business with you in the future."

Vitz took the card gingerly, by the corner, as if fearing it would bite him, "Of course."

They piled back into the speeder and their driver set off for the North Tunnel. Mara repeatedly wiped her hand on her skirt. "After that shake, all I want to do is bathe. What a disgusting creature."

Luke agreed, adding, "And a very unconvincing liar. Clever of you to make him back off like that."

"Yes, well obvious tactics like that never work with me. Did you get anything?"

Luke was teasingly evasive, "Such as...?"

Mara was not in a mood for games, "You know what I mean, don't aggravate me."

"Well what did you get?"

Mara snorted with contempt. "Stop being coy. I was concentrating on getting slimed."

"Now Mara, do we need to rehearse your split concentration lessons?"

"Now Luke, do I need to break a few of your bones? Will you please answer my question? Did you sense anything in there?"

"You mean something other than the fact they were very disturbed by our intrusion, that they wanted us out of there as quickly as possible, that several blanked their computer screens and shuffled papers so we couldn't see what they were doing, that there are at least two terminals an Artoo unit could access, that NRI may not have communications equipment that sophisticated and that the door between our rooms at the hotel is in better condition than the locks I saw to that office? Things like that?"

She gave him a shove with her elbow. "Yeah, things like that."

"No, I didn't see anything at all that would make me want to go back there. What about you?"

"I think a tour of the ruins of the Founders Hall would be more interesting," she glibly retorted. Mara paused, then added in a soft, teasing voice, "And I saw at least three access ports."

Luke returned the nudge, "I was just testing you."

"Oh sure, 'Master.'" She emphasized the title with a sarcastic twist. "Maybe you need to learn a few things from a different sort of Master."

00ooOO

As they tromped through the long dark tunnel to emerge on the unprotected other side, Luke wondered if everyone going to dinner parties on this side of town traveled with bunches of odd numbered flowers and a glow lamp. "Should I even ask why there are no street lights on this side of the barrier?"

The glow lamp bobbled in Mara's hand as they trod the uneven and pitted pavement. "Energy is expensive and there is no authority to maintain such things as public lighting. The Imps will maintain sanitation and basic public works like roads, but only because they need a healthy, mobile work force. It's not too much further."

They passed dimly lit block apartment buildings and narrow row houses. "So anything else I need to know for dinner tonight?"

"Well, there will probably be over 30 people there . . ."

"I thought this was just a family dinner."

"It is, Yur and Dona have ten children who have survived to adulthood. Last I was here, eight of them had married, and most of the married ones already had at least one child. It can be quite overwhelming. Make you wish for the solitude of Yavin."

"O.K. I think I can handle that. Anything else?"

"At the end of the meal, Yur will offer you a home brew from his own still. It's a traditional spirit called tolinka; don't refuse it, but trust me, don't try to keep up with Yur either. He will drown you, and then I'll have to carry you home."

She paused so long he had to prompt her, "What?"

"Well, just be prepared. I've known them a long time, and you're the first person I've ever brought over. They'll be curious."

Luke was able to keep his tone bland, betraying no amusement, "I understand."

Mara's voice became stern, "And remember about the Force. Yur's already probed you, but there are several in the family with a strong Force gift. Be careful, don't do anything fancy. Dona especially would disembowel you."

"I promise I'll behave."

"And we'll ask Yur about the net failures. We can also talk with him about Borkin and Bacchanalia, although he probably already knows we're interested. Just don't tell him why. They don't know about what I was, or the work I've done for the NR. I want to keep it that way."

Mara stopped at a row house at the end of a block of absolutely identical gates and row houses. Torches blazed on the walk and warm yellow lights shone through lacy curtains. "Why do I feel like I'm being brought home to meet the family?"

Mara laughed. "Not bad, although a more appropriate analogy may be a piece of livestock being appraised before auction."

"As long as no one asks to check my teeth," was Luke's slightly edgy response.

The door flew open and a herd of children thundered out, spilling onto the path, in a head long contest to wrap themselves around Mara's legs. A chorus of "Auntie Inta, Auntie Inta" erupted.

The shepherds were clustered at the top of the step, sternly, and futilely calling the unruly flock to heel. Children firmly affixed to every limb, Mara labored up the steps, and into the waiting, eager arms of the Remschi's numerous family.

Mara had warned him, but sometimes words do not do justice to the experience. Luke followed slowly up after her, the throng having absorbed Mara and squeezed through the front door. He felt rather ridiculous slowly ascending the steps, with a bouquet in one hand and in the other, the glow lamp Mara quickly surrendered to him upon the children's assault. He paused at the open door, uncertain whether to enter. Mara was lost in the crush of embraces and kisses.

A boy peeled off from the crowd, and tottered toward him, one fist in his mouth, a model craft clutched in the other. He held the model up to Luke. "Who're ya?"

Luke stooped down to meet his greeter eye to eye, "I'm Luke. Who are you?"

The toddler stared at him with wide, dark eyes, and considered the question carefully, finally pronouncing with the infinite solemnity only a child can muster, "Toman."

"Well Toman, that's a nice ship you have there."

"Inta got it fer me."

"Really? Can I see it?"

Toman offered the model, a New Republic X Wing, complete with its own tiny astromech droid.

"Toman, do you want to be a pilot like Inta when you grow up?"

The child nodded, then suddenly attacked with a fit of shyness, fled to the refuge of a nearby dark skirt. Luke slowly stood, to meet the rest of the woman who went with the skirt. She was deeply browned, in a shapeless, somber garment and starched apron, her coarse, streaked black hair drawn into a severe knot. She reached out with both hands to help Luke up, relieving him of his burdens.

"Ah forgive us, that Toman is the first to welcome you to our home."

"Thank you, Madam . . . "

She shook his hands. "No, to Mara's friend, I am Dona." Dona stood on her toes, kissing him on both cheeks.

"I'm Luke."

"So Yur and now Toman have told me." Dona smiled, looking down at the flowers. "Lovely, thank you for your unnecessary gift." Luke saw that she was actually counting the blooms. "Very thoughtful." She looked up again, "I apologize for our discourtesy. We only ask your forbearance. Mara has been away for a long time."

Dona's kind words were much at odds with his sense of her deep skepticism. As Luke felt her extend a confident, gentle probe, he had to steel himself to not react to it. Dona emanated a rich, serene aura through the Force; he knew few who were endowed with such a distinct, strong presence. As he concentrated on relaxation, peace, relaying that he was non-threatening, Dona immediately perceived even this innocuous gesture. Her eyes narrowed and her wariness increased, even as her smile widened.

Mara interrupted the tableau, coming forward to Dona. The two women clasped hands and kissed on each cheek, in what Luke soon learned was the customary Verratan greeting. Yur, head and shoulders above the rest, announced in a roaring voice, "And now we must all welcome Inta's friend Luke." Any lingering misgivings from his welcome were dispelled as the Remschi clan all surged to greet him, each of the some 20 adults, grasping his hands and kissing him first on one cheek, and then the other. Even Force recall was not going help him keep the shouted, ringing names straight.

In the orgy of embraces he heard a laugh in his mind, "You'll be quizzed on everyone's names at dinner." He knew Mara was very much aware of his discomfiture.

There was, fortunately, no such examination. Yur, every bit the generous, boisterous host, distributed glasses and ale, offering the first of many toasts to the lovely, talented Inta and her friend. The family then all crowded around a table so long, it extended from one small, cramped room of the flat, into the next. The table was groaning under the weight of steamed, pickled, mashed, roasted, baked and broiled food. In a certain, peculiar rhythm, each of the many courses had its own beverage - first ale, three different wines then, before paralysis could set in completely, Mara's brandy.

The meal concluded with tolinka, a pure, devastatingly clear spiced ethanol. Mara joined the men in the drinking etiquette, which required them to swallow the tumbler-full in a gulp, slam the glass down, and shout "sherrifee," loosely translated Luke thought as "May I not go blind from what I just drank."

Luke acquitted himself so well, Yur offered to refill his glass several times. Grateful of Mara's warning, Luke begged off, but delighted Yur immensely with a request to take a bottle of the poison home. He was able to say truthfully that tolinka was indeed like nothing he had ever tasted in the galaxy. If things ever got really dicey during the trip, Luke figured he and Mara could probably take out the entire space port with one bottle of Yur's home brew and a fuse.

* * *

After the dinner, Yur steered Luke to a corner. Easing his bulk into a deep chair, cradling his beloved brandy with one hand, he gestured Luke to the other chair. "Come, come, I must learn of you, of Inta's friend."

Although admiring the man's candor, Luke was not mollified. He sat warily at the edge of the chair, facing Yur.

"So, how long have you known Inta?"

Well that was innocent enough. "About 10 years ago, we met when she was working for Talon Karrde."

Yur narrowed his eyes, admiring the golden color of the liquid fire in his glass. "Karrde. An interesting man. His impulses are, I think, nobler than he realizes or cares to admit."

Luke smiled. "I think that's true. Karrde long proclaimed himself a neutral profiteer, but his actions indicated otherwise."

"His sponsorship was an important step for Inta. How did you meet her?"

Luke could answer the question truthfully, albeit by halves. "I was stranded in deep space with a cracked drive; Mara was piloting for Karrde and found my ship."

Yur continued eyeing and sipping his brandy, his seemingly disinterested posture, Luke realized, a clever ploy. Yur was carefully evaluating every word, every nuance of their conversation, firing questions at odd intervals, allowing pauses to hang, no doubt hoping Luke would offer more.

After another long gap, Yur asked, "So Luke, how do you earn your way? A young man of your talents is not always Inta's co-pilot I think?"

Again, Luke deemed half-answers probably safe, "I teach a far amount. I pilot some."

"A teacher. I see. Where do you live?"

Luke shrugged noncommittedly, "Like Mara, I live in different places. I don't really have a permanent home. I go where my students are."

"Well, we all come from somewhere. You have sprouted wings, but where are your roots?"

Luke was unsure if Yur's own truth sense was strong enough to detect falsehoods, and regardless, he did not wish to lie outright. His response was carefully phrased. "I was a farmer on a desert world you have never heard of for the first part of my life; most of my family died during the war." That was as far as he was willing to go, and Yur seemed to understand that he had pushed Luke to that limit. He was, nevertheless, totally unprepared for the next volley.

"So why have you not married Inta?"

Luke stared at Yur in opened-mouth amazement at the audacious question. He shook his head. "No, it's like Mara told you, it's, we're, we're old friends."

Yur chuckled deeply. "Ahh, no one would ever marry an old friend."

Luke was afraid he was actually blushing. He knew that Yur was manipulating him, that Yur had asked the question, not for any particular information, or serious interest, but to observe his own composure under stress. And Luke was not bearing up well under Yur's piercing scrutiny. He was finally able only to mutter "Really, it's not like that at all."

"Why not? Oh, I see, perhaps you are already married."

"Well, no, it's just, well, we're not ..." Luke finished lamely.

It was time to call in reinforcements. He searched and by sight and through the Force, found Mara, across the room with Yur's oldest daughter, Rodica. Their heads were bent in an earnest exchange, Luke realized, about himself, Mara fending off similar inquiries from Rodica. As he focused on the women's conversation, he felt Yur use the Force, but this time more assertively, in an effort to gauge his feelings ... It was a reflexive act, Luke could not check it; his barrier slammed down on Yur.

The brandy sloshed in his glass as Yur winced with the impact. Luke feeling the other man's surprise and chagrin, tried stammering an apology. Yur held up a warning hand, shaking his head, sincerely contrite, "Forgive me Luke. The fault is mine." Mara glanced up at them. She was still intent with Rodica, but Luke heard in his mind "Everything okay?"

He responded silently to her, "Fine." She smiled fleetingly in his direction before returning to Rodica.

Watching Mara, meters apart, and yet so attuned to her, the same feelings that had haunted him earlier that day selected this already uncomfortable moment to leap to life. Luke abruptly locked his rigid control into place, but not quickly enough. Yur was staring at him, comprehending both the link and Luke's sudden, confused reaction. Luke lowered his eyes, struggling to quiet his flush of embarrassment.

Yur returned to his brandy, allowing Luke, in a merciful pause, an opportunity to regain his shattered poise. Feeling a swell of sympathetic compassion, he then heard Yur softly say, "It is always so complicated." Luke could only nod.

As if nothing had transpired, Yur began in a jocular mode, "So I understand that you and Mara are interested in dim Witt Borkin?"

"Yes." Luke was so relieved at the course change, his quick response may have seemed callous. He added, "He seems to have disappeared, and we have some friends who are concerned for him."

"Borkin was a poor selection." When Luke did not respond to the implicit query, Yur continued blandly, "But Stoica has already told you of dim Witt's careless behavior, and his singular misfortune in obtaining work at Bacchanalia."

"It did seem strange that he was hired there, when no one else was."

"Indeed." Yur was pensive, swirling and sipping his brandy. "More caution on his part might very well have averted whatever hazard into which he seems to have blundered. Tirgu is a small place, and we," Luke knew Yur referred to the native Verratans, "are, for the most part, a close community. Borkin has most certainly disappeared, and if he were in Tirgu among us, we would know."

Luke asked, "Do you think he might have left Tirgu?"

Yur shook his head with conviction. "If Borkin had left from the space port, I believe I would have known of it," a brief, ambiguous smile flickered, "by one means or another."

"Of course, Bacchanalia has its own port now as well."

"True." They were silent until Luke ventured, "Could Borkin be with one of the Imperial families?"

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, Yur did not answer immediately, cataloging the Imps in his mind. "You must realize that all of the families require many Verratan workers, as cooks, maids, drivers, caretakers, waiters, whatever lowly service we can perform for them. It is likely the staff would know if Borkin were in one of the houses, whether as guest or prisoner. I have not heard anything, but will certainly make some inquiries." He extended his arm out, to encompass the room, saying with some resignation and bitterness, "Why my own family works for twenty or more different households - much can be accomplished here."

Yur's voice lowered to whisper a confidence. "Although I perceive that you and Mara bring more sophistication to this matter that our young, misplaced friend, I caution you to leave this to me. It will be difficult for you to seek dim Witt without also repeating his errors. For reasons Stoica no doubt made clear to you, circumspection is called for, now perhaps more than before."

Luke nodded his agreement. "Something else Yur. We are also looking for a woman, named Dazern Kyle. Do you know her?"

Yur slapped Luke's knee with rough amusement. "You and Inta have misplaced many friends, Luke. Does such trouble always follow the two of you?"

Luke grinned at Yur's perceptiveness, "Sometimes it does seem that way."

"Well, in answer to your question, my wife will be reassured that no, I do not know a woman named Dazern Kyle. The family name though is familiar to me." Yur's voice boomed, "Rodica, Inta, you have gossiped long enough, come join us, help us solve a problem." Yur gestured his daughter closer, his own oversized figure dwarfing the diminutive Rodica.

Luke scooted over in his seat to make room for Mara, "We were talking about Dazern Kyle." Mara nodded.

"Rodica, my child, you have heard our guest's inquiry, and you know so many of the families. Do you know this woman?"

Rodica's brow furrowed with more deep lines than so young a woman should bear, "I don't know anyone who works for the Kyle family. They hire few, since they themselves must operate a trade. They manage the Credit Exchange."

Luke and Mara exchanged a glance, Luke muttering under his breath, "It figures."

Mara explained to Yur and Rodica, "We didn't know that, but it's not surprising. We'll look for her there."

Dona then interrupted them with a call to her daughter, "Rodica, it is your turn in the kitchen, dishes are still be done."

Luke's eyes widened, "Dishes? You mean, washing dishes?"

Rodica and Mara both laughed at him, Mara awarding him yet another painful jab, "What, you expect a kitchen droid to do the work?"

Rodica stood, stretching her hand out to Luke, "Come, here is something new for you."

Yur immediately protested this rude treatment of their guest, but Mara scolded him, "Now Yur, Rodica is right." She smirked, "Luke has been learning all sorts of new things as my co-pilot. Doing dishes is just another part of his training."

Prodded from the side, summoned from above, and his reputation at stake, Luke allowed Rodica to draw him up, saluting Mara good naturedly, "Aye Cap'n." Hearing Mara begin questioning Yur about the security net, he wove with Rodica through the family, furniture and children into the kitchen.

A pile of plates and glasses awaited them, neatly stacked on the counter, a basin of soapy water at the ready. Rodica donned an apron, "I will spare you the indignity of an apron. Have you really never done this before?"

"Of course I have. I've lived alone for a long time; there are some things every bachelor has to learn. Wash or dry?"

Her laugh was teasing, lilting, "I thought as much. It is just a game with you and Mara isn't it?" She went on, not expecting a reply, "I shall wash; with the work I do in the vineyards, my hands are never really clean anymore."

They tackled the stack. "So you work at the vineyards?"

"Yes. The vineyards of Tirgu Muresh produce much excellent wine, now, of course being sold by the Bacchanalia company. Do you know of them?"

"Mara just learned about Bacchanalia recently."

Rodica exuded a quiet pride. "At one time, the Empire brought vines from all over the galaxy here for cultivation. Some vines are over one hundred years old. Only recently have we begun to recapture the skills necessary to truly reap what the vines give us."

They were interrupted by a little girl in a coarse, carefully starched brown smock who pushed through the door, cautiously bearing a dirty plate in her hands. Startled to see the grown ups, she halted. Charged with her errand, she mustered her courage, and cautiously edged forward with her precious load, raising her hands over her head, standing on tip toes to carefully slide the plate onto the counter before turning to face them. Rodica awarded her a warm, mock serious "Thank you, Alyne." Alyne looked from Rodica to Luke, and back to Rodica, and then fled.

They both laughed, although to Luke, Rodica's own gaiety was forced. As she wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her soapy right hand, he was suddenly drawn to Rodica's left hand, which had dropped to her own waist. In the Force he felt a powerful throb, a throb independent of the rhythm of Rodica's own pulse.

He blurted it out without thinking, "You're pregnant."

Rodica gasped in amazement, then spread her apron across her front, "How could you know that? I have only . . . ."

Luke silently cursed his blunder; this was not a preferred way to remain inconspicuous. "I'm sorry, I could just tell. Congratulations."

She continued staring at him, then extended a gentle Force tendril. As with the others he had met, her awareness was strong, but unfocused, like a sixth sense perceiving a part of the world invisible to others. This time he reciprocated the light probe; as he did so, comprehension dawned in her face.

Rodica said nothing, pivoting away from him, and returning calmly to the basin of dishes. "Thank you for your kind wishes," her voice was flat, expressionless. She immersed several glasses and began carefully washing them. Methodically rinsing one, she handed it to him, saying softly, entreatingly, "I would ask, however, that you not speak of this to anyone in my family, or to Mara." She continued her chore with a painstaking care, Luke suddenly realizing, that was reflective not of what the task at hand demanded, but of other, far weightier issues.

Her distress was so great, he could not stay silent, "What do you mean?"

Not looking at him, seemingly absorbed in mundane washing and rinsing, she finally said slowly, "Sorin, my husband and I must decide soon whether to terminate this pregnancy." She rinsed another glass, delicately placing it in his empty hands, then returned to the basin. "Forgive me for shocking you. I know that views on this subject vary widely."

Luke said nothing, attempting, with little success to match her casual effort, to quiet his visceral reaction to her announcement. Her reasons, her motivations utterly eluded him. He knew it was not his place to judge this woman or the morays of her culture; yet, the Jedi could not let this go unchallenged. He finally asked, "I don't know that I understand why."

Rodica paused over the basin, staring at her tiny, rough hands before submerging them. She raised a stemmed glass from the water to the light, studying a large bubble trapped in the glass, moving it slowly, observing the iridescent shape shift, slide, and then pop. "This is my fourth pregnancy. The first time, I miscarried; the second, the child was born early and died. Then, a year ago, I was working in the vineyards and miscarried again; there is no medical care available - I nearly bled to death among the red wine grapes. The mid-wife believes that the child is unlikely to survive and that this pregnancy will kill me."

Rodica calmly rinsed the final glass, and the washing done, snagged a towel and began drying the fragile vessel. She said matter of factly, with no rancor, "So Luke, do not judge us so quickly."

For a second time that evening, Luke felt the color rise in his face. Her gentle candor and just admonition was wrenching. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

She set down the glass and picked up another, "No, of course not. How could you know of our life here?" Only her deep sigh betrayed the toll of the explanation she in no way owed him. "As with so many other things, we have only the quick and brutal options, the hard choices. Here, terminating a pregnancy is far easier than preventing one."

The dishes done, Rodica took his towel and her own, hanging them neatly on a rod. She smiled at him, "You will speak of this to no one?" and began moving toward the door, confident in his discretion.

Luke made a sudden decision, "Rodica." At his call, she turned back, frowning. He began again, "Rodica, you know that you have a certain gift?" As he spoke, he reached out slowly to her again through the Force.

Rodica stared at him, then nodded, and he felt her own, strong, untrained awareness stir. She whispered, "We do not call it a gift. And in this matter, foresight has failed. The future is dark to me."

"I can help you find that foresight."

She touched his arm lightly, her eyes wide, bright and damp with hope, "Truly?"

She recoiled slightly as he raised his hands to touch her face, "Don't be afraid." Luke gently reached into her mind, telling her, "Focus on the child, think of that spark, of that little flame, do you see it?" He felt her quail at the task, "No, it's all right, I'll show you," and as Luke guided her there, they both felt, at the same instance, the strength, the lively health of the fetus within her.

With a touch Luke shifted Rodica's awareness again, finding where her latent ability rested, releasing the future for her which had been locked behind her dark fear. An image rolled before them, a little girl very much like Alyne, running on sunlit grass toward them, to an older Rodica and another man Luke knew must be Sorin. Rodica gasped at the import of the vision, calling out "Lumeninta, little light," her surge of elation so joyous to be almost painful to him.

As the vision faded, Rodica grasped his hands, her voice full, trembling, "Thank you Luke, I . . ." She broke off suddenly, stiffening.

Luke turned, but sensed before he saw the reason for Rodica's stab of uncertainty. Dona was standing as a forbidding, severe guard at the door.

Rodica swallowed convulsively, nodded at her mother's unspoken order, and darted out of the kitchen, leaving Luke alone with Dona. She was rigid with tightly leashed fury. That she did alter her seeming calm stance made her wrath all the more terrible. Dona's focus was resolute, absolute. The only thing more potent than the raw, untrained power pulsating in her stern form was the force of will which had subdued it. Without such control, she would be devastating; with it, she seemed indomitable. The complete mastery shamed him.

Responding to the torrent of emotion, Yur and Mara pushed their way into the kitchen, both with the same look of concern and curiosity. Dona shooed them away smiling, "Now you two cannot monopolize him all night. I will not damage your friend Mara. We are just having a talk."

Luke heard Mara's own silent query in his head, but brushed her aside with a gentle, "Later." Yur did not believe a word his wife had said, but left reluctantly, shaking his head mournfully.

Alone again, Dona turned back to him. She began her frigid interrogation. "Did Mara tell you nothing of what we believe?"

"No, she did, don't blame her."

Her retort was one of composed ferocity, "Then I can only assume that you are so stupid that you do not understand or so arrogant that what we believe is of no consequence to you."

It was as if Yoda himself had issued the reprimand, wounding to the core. "No, that's not it, I . . . "

"Silence." Her soft command brooked no refusal. She looked at him closely, her distinct, keen awareness washing over him. Dona then began slowly, "We have a word in our language - for when one receives a valuable gift not worth its cost - a delicate pack animal that eats more than it can carry, a coat with intricate detail, beautiful to look upon but that cannot be washed and offers no warmth. I think you know this word?"

Luke shook his head in wordless denial.

"We call both the gift and the giver 'jedi.'"

Luke faltered over his explanation, "I was only showing Rodica how to do so something she already knew; her innate ability was there, I only showed her how to find it."

"Oh, and because we all have the innate ability to do wrong, does this excuse those who merely show us how to do harm, or provide us with the means to do so?"

"But," he stammered, "she is pregnant, and needed to know whether she or the baby would live, whether she should terminate her pregnancy."

Her anger did not lessen, but became more intense, more contradictory, as it warred with her desire to know what he and Rodica had seen. She bowed her head, in acknowledgement of the weakness that compelled her to ask with a whisper, "What did you see?"

"They will both live."

Her eyes closed in silent relief, before flying open again with an accusatory glare, "The end result cannot forgive what you have done. What if the vision had shown otherwise? Her death, or that of the child? Were you prepared to show her that as well? Did you consider that possibility?"

It was a question Luke could not possibly answer. He said nothing, did not attempt to justify his action. Any explanation would only infuriate her further. He stood quietly, and after a few moments, Dona cloaked her own power, wrapping herself again in an aura of supreme calm.

She began speaking in a measured voice, "I know that you intended no evil in your assistance to my daughter. But having borne this burden for longer than you, I will remind you that when we think we know the future, we abdicate responsibility for making that future."

He ventured again, "I'm sorry. I know that the future is in motion, . . ."

Dona cut him off, "And knowing this you still sought it, sought to show it to Rodica? To one who does not understand these things as you and I do?" She shook her head, "Speak no more of this. I," she stumbled over the admission, "I have learned not to trust my own visions."

She continued levelly, "We can only hope for Rodica's sake that your vision is true. Emotion, what we wish to see, often clouds the path. If you do not know this, learn it now. Otherwise, you may do harm, to yourself and others."

As Luke nodded at her rebuke, thinking of the similar lesson of Bespin, Dona suddenly grasped his hands. Her eyes widened in understanding, as she somehow shared with him that awful memory on the platform.

"So, it is as I suspected."

She sighed heavily, sadly. "We know more of Mara than she believes, but out of deference to her desire to keep her worlds apart, stay silent on this." She turned his hands over in her small, hard brown ones, fingering the perfect right one, and the calloused left. "When she lived with us, we came to share her dreams. And although she never spoke of these things, we knew what she had been, whose hand had controlled her," Dona looked at his right hand intently, then released him, raising her eyes to burrow into him, "And we know who she blamed for her loss."

She sighed again, shaking her head. "When my husband told me that Mara would bring someone tonight and what his name was, I had thought it at most, a peculiar coincidence. I see now that it is no coincidence."

Luke ventured tentatively, "No, it isn't."

Dona frowned with bemused confusion, "I must say, I do not understand what is between you and her."

"If Mara has not said anything, I don't believe I should either," Luke responded, trying to salvage whatever shreds of his dignity remained.

Her insight denied him even that, "You hope to atone for your own lack of discipline now by implying that I seek information from you I could not hope to obtain from Mara. I meant only that we know how she long sought your death."

"That was a long time ago."

"True." There was more in her statement than she revealed, but she did not elaborate. Dona continued, "We have over the years, seen a change in Mara, felt her power and confidence grow. Are you responsible for this?"

"Partly. She has many natural gifts that," he paused, "others have exploited. I've helped her to correct the damage, and to develop her own skills." The good will and respect of this dignified, powerful woman mattered immensely to him; Luke hoped that with this acknowledgment, he might earn her esteem. He was mistaken.

Dona's comprehending gaze seemed to lay bear his very soul, discerning his strength, his control, his weaknesses and failings. He felt, not respect from her, but pity, sadness, and like Yur, compassion. She stepped closer to him, raised a hand to his cheek, as in a benediction, "My son, you take much upon yourself in this, and I think other things as well. A true Jedi."

Luke felt his throat tighten, thinking of her words, thinking how they echoed his own doubts of the lonely path his life had taken. At that instant, a rush of children crashed through the kitchen, Toman leading the way, in a whirling firefight. Toman barreled into Luke breathless, the others in hot pursuit. They raced in circles, shouting, "Found him, found him Inta!" before blasting out of the kitchen again.

Dona smiled, this time with warmth and humor. "I believe that is your summons Luke. Mara will be worried that I have damaged you, my assurances notwithstanding."

Luke laughed, "I don't think so. Not Mara. If you damaged me, it would only save her the trouble."

Dona patted his cheek again, with affectionate tolerance. "So you think? Well, my friend, in all these years, Mara has never brought someone here before. She would have only merged these two separate worlds of hers if she trusted you, if you were important to her in some way."

Oo00OO

The embraces, good byes, and well wishes took almost as long as the dinner itself. There were also several more toasts with Yur's tolinka - to health, happiness, and a safe trip home, the latter particularly important given the state of the guests. By the end, Mara was glad neither she nor Luke was driving. As a parting gift, Yur gave them each a wine bottle refilled with tolinka.

To a chorus of cheers, they tripped down the steps and into the dark street, weaving slightly from Yur's generous hospitality. Almost as soon as they were out of earshot of the house, the question Mara had been withholding burst out, "What was that all about with Dona?"

"Nothing," was the surly reply.

"Pretty big nothing if both Yur and I felt it."

"I really don't want to talk about."

"Fine."

They continued in silence through the dark tunnel, up the other side, to the shielded city, continuing along the lit, deserted avenue. The glow lamp illuminated their path, jumping and jostling with the unsteady hands who alternated carrying it.

Luke finally blurted unprompted, "I used the Force to help Rodica."

Mara spun around, "What? Why the hell did you do that?"

"I,"

Mara cut into his explanation, furious, "Didn't I warn you? Didn't you listen? I'm surprised Dona didn't just throw you out."

He grabbed her arm, "Mara, let me explain, please." She yanked free of him, swearing, and strode away from the arrogant fool. "Please, just listen," he called after her.

Mara whirled around again, prepared to deliver more scathing invective. Luke was slumping against the low wall bordering the walk, dejected, disconsolate. Sith, how she hated these episodes of morose despondency, even when he had no one but himself to blame. She stalked back to the hunched form, and stood in front of him, arms folded across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently.

"All right, explain, I'm waiting."

Luke continued staring down at the ground, and finally the story came out, hesitant word by word. "Rodica is..." He started again. "We were doing the dishes. And she, well I figured out that she is pregnant."

Mara started in shock at his revelation, "But she..."

"I know. She told me. She said that she and Sorin were trying to decide whether to terminate the pregnancy."

Mara softened slightly for Rodica, and for the foolish Jedi, who was, at his core, a farm boy who would never learn better. Like a thread tying one to the other, as her anger drained, Luke responded, looking up to meet her gaze. She saw remorse and guilt there.

"So what happened?"

"I helped her reach the fetus, and then helped her find their future. She was able to see that both she and her little girl would survive." Mara exhaled with relief the breath she did not know she had been holding, "And Dona caught you?"

He nodded.

"And gave you an Imperial tongue lashing."

Luke continued ruefully, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I, I just couldn't stand by and let her do something like that if I could help her see a better way." Luke hung his head again miserably.

Mara drew a step closer to his self-contained barrier. Tentatively resting one hand on each of his wretched shoulders, she almost pulled back herself as Luke flinched with the unexpected physical solicitude. She cleared her throat roughly. "Most people face these things every day without the benefit of foresight. You..." Hesitating, she amended, unusually inclusive, "...we shouldn't presume to make those decisions for them."

"That's what Dona said," he muttered.

Mara squeezed his shoulders, saying with a gentleness that surprised her, "She's right."

He straightened in a challenge, catching her eye, "So are you saying you wouldn't have done the same thing?"

"You know I can't project into the future," she snapped, now angry, recoiling.

Luke raised his hands, resting one on each of her arms, subtly halting her retreat. "No, but you would have known how to show Rodica."

"I ..." Mara intended to disavow his charge, but suddenly knew it would be a lie to do so. Stang, it was impossible to deny self-knowledge with a Jedi Master around. She bowed her head, in resignation, touching her forehead to his. Her confession was as halting as his. "I probably would have done the same thing."

They stood there for some time, not speaking, each comforted with the unexpected discovery that there was someone else who understood that powerful gifts sometimes are worth the price they may exact.

Mara broke off first, placing the flat of her palms on his chest, "I have an idea." She pushed him lightly for emphasis.

Luke arched an eyebrow, taking a more secure hold of her that was almost, but not entirely, unwelcome, "Yes?"

Mara squirmed slightly under his hands. "I say we go back to the hotel," she paused, leading him on, even though he knew exactly where she was going.

"Okay, then what?"

She stopped fidgeting, "And get Artoo."

"And?"

She leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "Go break some laws."

He laughed, "What kind of laws?"

Mara tipped back slightly, then forward again, to whisper in the other ear, "Breaking and entering."

"Bacchanalia?"

They hurried back to the hotel, hustled through the empty lobby and upstairs. By the time Mara slipped into Luke's room, he had readied Artoo and like her, had changed into darker clothing. She had the glow lamp and the bottle of tolinka; their explosives kit was slung over her shoulder.

"I'm ready to party. How about you?" She pried the cork off with her teeth, took a burning mouthful, and handed him the bottle, "Even if this is mine, I'll let you have some."

Luke took a deep swallow, and handed it back, "Let's go."

They quickly exited the hotel, moving as stealthily as Artoo permitted through the darkened streets, both reaching through the Force for any movement. Nothing was awake for blocks, the entire city seemingly in a peaceful slumber. They arrived at the Bacchanalia store front without incident, it, like the streets, empty.

"Check the building, see if there's anything we need to get passed," Mara hissed. She was studying the front door.

Luke returned a few moments later, silently, and quite suddenly at her elbow. "No cameras, triggers, or alarms I can find. How do you want to get in, cut a hole?"

He had his lightsaber half way off and out before she could stop him. "Not so fast, Jedi."

Luke pivoted, staring down at her with a tight grin and a flash of disappointment. What had gotten into the Master?

"Aren't you going to make me come up with some convoluted legal justification for violating local laws and breaking into a building?" Mara accused in an amused whisper.

Luke's response was to test the handle of the locked door impatiently. "I'll be sure to report you to the magistrate. Right now, I want to know what they are doing in there."

Mara elbowed him again. "Well, if you don't make a citizen's arrest, I think I can satisfy your curiosity." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim credit transfer card. Flexing it back and forth, she then forced the card between the door and the door jam.

She grunted softly, "I have better tools, but sometimes, only the old-fashioned method works on old-fashioned doors." Sliding the card down the length of the door to the handle, she began working the spring mechanism. They heard a soft click and the door swung open.

"Master Locksmith too, I see."

Mara was left standing at the threshold as Luke pushed by her into the darkened office. Artoo followed right behind him, rolling to the nearest access port.

"I'll check the communications logs, you go check Vitz's computer." Mara would have snapped at Luke's curt near-order, but she was already headed to the terminal when he delivered it.

As Luke rifled through the office with the care and enthusiasm of a smuggler, Mara began her assault on the Bacchanalia network. Vitz's computer was simple in the way that only immense cost and sophistication afford. Irritation with the Jedi disappeared in her eagerness to share the discoveries. "Skywalker, take a look."

Luke eased his way over to the terminal, stooping behind her to share the view of the illuminated screen. Mara felt his hands contact her seat's back, gripping the hard plastic as he steadied into a crouch anyone but a Jedi would find hopelessly awkward. They studied the screen together.

In her ear, Luke whispered, "Vitz is very organized, isn't he?"

"Typical Imp," she snorted softly. "Remind me to thank him. It's these file names. 'Investors,' 'Targets,' 'Buyers,' 'Prospects,' and 'Suckers.' I wonder what a 'Sucker' file would mean, any ideas?"

"No," came back hoarse and quiet over her shoulder. She felt the hair at her neck move with his breath. "What's in the files?"

"Lists."

"Lists?" Mara heard the puzzlement and felt a restless finger tap the back of her chair.

"Lists and lists of names, addresses, people, thousands of people.

"Better copy them all," he said, again with a hint of command.

"Chip's already in the computer. How's Artoo doing?"

"I think he's about done." Mara again felt his breath on her nape as he leaned forward to study the screen. "Will Artoo be able to get this all off their network?"

"Yeah. He should. I'll copy the important stuff just to make sure."

Luke reached toward the display, his arm brushing against her as he pointed to files called "Financial Statements," "Prospectus," and "Dividends." "Make sure you copy those."

"I already did. What have you found?"

"Not much. They are buying and selling lots and lots of wine all over the galaxy, but predominantly in the Core. We were right about the equipment though. It's top of the line, brand new. Have you found the credit records?"

She shook her head, saying quietly, "I keep looking, but nothing yet."

"Maybe we'll have to get them direct from the Credit Exchange?"

"You sound awfully wistful for a defender of peace and order, Skywalker. If the credit records aren't here, we'll think of something."

"We can always just break some more laws."

Mara's skin prickled at the provocative, intent whisper in her ear. Her heart involuntarily giving so loud a thump, she was positive he must have felt it. The low chuckle that followed confirmed that he had. Damned Jedi.

Tension filled warmth rose in the room. Mara felt Luke's piercing and considerable regard divert from study of the computer entries, to her. Resolutely ignoring him, she stared ahead at the screen, and finally stammered, "We could try breaking into the Exchange, but ..."

She lost her words as a finger began toying with the earring dangling from her right ear. She shrugged off the finger with a gruff gesture, "Cut it out Jedi."

His voice came closer, softer, "Why?"

"Because I don't like it, that's why."

The finger returned, this time pressing lightly on her throat to take measure of a pounding pulse, "Liar."

His hands reached around, encircling and trapping her. Purposefully, and quite deliberately, he swiveled her chair around so that Mara stared, dumbfounded into the face of her truly unknown assailant.

Suddenly they both froze sensing, at the same time, someone outside approaching the office. Mara dove off the chair, careening clumsily into Luke. They both tumbled onto the floor, and scrambled into the cramped space underneath the desk. She fumbled up to the desktop and blanked her computer screen. Luke cast about for Artoo, who was illuminated in a green glow at the access port.

"Great timing Skywalker."

Mara felt Luke stretch out cautiously with the Force. Not knowing if the person was sensitive, they did not want to alert him to their presence if he was. A relaxed, slightly alert man, moved into their awareness.

"Night watchman," Luke murmured.

Mara used the Force and dimmed the light around Artoo.

Crouched, almost on top of one another, elbows and knees thrust painfully into the other's sides, wedged under the desk, they waited, in the dark, hearing as the man paced along the walk outside the Bacchanalia door. Then with slow, even steps, the watchman continued his rounds, moving down the street, finally fading into the night. Still they waited, sensing each other's quick breathing and the damp smell of anxiety.

Luke crawled out first, then helped Mara rise. While he confirmed that Artoo had completed the dump, Mara closed down the computer, stowed the chip, and collected their party kit. "Let's get out of here." Certain the street was deserted once again, they bolted out and back to the hotel.

In Luke's room, Mara broke open the bottle. "You throw one hell of a party, Skywalker." She took a deep draught and then surrendered it to him.

He raised the bottle in salute, "Sherrifee, my partner in crime."

Mara retrieved the bottle, proffering another toast, "To breaking more laws." The words slipped out carelessly before she thought to censor them.

They stood awkwardly, in silence. Mara, anxious to avoid a replay of what had occurred before the computer terminal abruptly beat a retreat to the safety of her own room. Not wanting to know what Luke was thinking, what he was feeling, not wanting him to sense her own turmoil, she cut off even the simple link that had come to bind them.

She immediately regretted her childishness, recognizing that sealing off her own emotions was as likely to send the wrong message as broadcasting them.

From behind the unlocked door Mara sought to make amends. She whispered into his mind, "Beats rotting in the jungle doesn't it? I told you this would be fun."

"You were right, Mara."

"'You were right, Mara.' I like the sound of that. Say it more often Skywalker, and I might let you come with me again."

She felt his yawn, a concession to the demands of a long day. "Maybe, but remind me the next time you invite me to a dinner party, to decline the invitation."

The appropriate retort came to her in a flash, "Now you know how I feel around your family Skywalker."

* * *

Chapter 7 follows, _Follow the Money (In which Luke and Mara share a hotel room and a bed, again, and break laws, again.)_

"Mara, what do you do when you don't have me around to hone your wit to a fine edge?"

"I kick Ewoks around."


	7. Chapter 7 Follow the Money, Part 1

**Stuff**  
by Gheorghe2

**CHAPTER 7**  
**_FOLLOW THE MONEY, Part 1  
_**

_In which Luke and Mara drink (more) and go break some laws. _

_"Mara, what do you do when you don't have me around to hone your wit to a fine edge?"_

_"I kick Ewoks around."_

* * *

Sorry for the long delay. I keep forgetting that anyone cares and then I received two very nice reviews and was reading all about the awesome Origins panel with the trinity/Axis of Goodness, Zahn/Stackpole/Allston and decide, well, gosh, I really have no excuse other than the pain of seeing (again) my poor comma usage and floating points of view.

Thanks so very, very much to those of you who did review. I really appreciate it. If you are reading this for the first time in a long time, or stumbling on it for the first time, do drop a line!

* * *

Mara was pacing. She had been up for over an hour, had some tea, remembered where she was and then regrettably, what her last disturbing thoughts had been before falling asleep. Shutting her mind from those murky, dangerous permutations, she pulled the blanket more closely around her shivering form, warding off the chill of the Tirgu morning and contemplated her conundrum. Skywalker was still sleeping off the previous day's exertions in the next room and Mara wanted his droid. The droid was in the room with Skywalker. She could wake Skywalker, but she would rather just have the droid. The lure of the inner workings of Bacchanalia only meters away was a powerful incentive for overcoming her reluctance to venture into that room.

Mara ultimately opted for the subtle approach. Brandishing her blaster, she silently coaxed Artoo into her room with the promise of evisceration if it didn't cooperate.

She had intended to spend a quiet hour or two perusing financial data. Other women might prefer the gossip section of the morning news, a nice romance novel, or their favorite space opera. Mara eschewed prattle, despised romance of any sort and saw no purpose in squandering energy on the travails of fictional characters. For her, the drama of a company's profit and loss statements made for more compelling reading.

This morning, however, concentration and focus deserted her. The intricacies of her own space opera proved too distracting for even the purported Bacchanalia balance sheet. Her mind kept flying back to how she had acquired the data; what had happened during her review of the purloined files the night before - the dizzying fear of discovery, the intoxicating danger and tension all woven into the dark illicitness of a criminal act. That the experience had thrilled her was not a surprise; that Skywalker had been the catalyst, and that he had shed his contemptible control to also revel in the thrill was.

The episode was demanding a reappraisal she had long postponed and had hoped to forestall altogether. In moments of candor, she knew that her own unattractive traits of a demanding and remote temperament had not been conducive to successful long term relationships. Although she would have never admitted it to him, his observation that she had compromised intimacy for independence and self-sufficiency had been unerringly insightful.

It had been a deliberate choice; she knew herself to be a loyal friend, a shrewd trader, and a desirable woman. The compromise had come in the ordering; she seldom risked business with friends or lovers; lovers were never more than casual friends whose inevitable loss would be not missed; and close friends whose loss would be missed were never lovers. Approaching forty years of age, she had no regrets and saw no reason to alter the formula now.

No, the problem was with him, not with her. Mara partly blamed herself. With her goading, he was reassessing the fulfillment of years as a hermetic Master to a flock of fawning acolytes. If Skywalker had stayed the master of mind and body, he would not now be savoring the exhilaration of life on the other side, the shuddering thrill of restraint giving way to caprice or desire. She could not fault him; she herself craved the same things; the exquisite excitement of delicately balancing control and impulse, discretion and reckless abandon, temperance and passion. He was walking a tense, sharp edged line, wavering first one way, than another and Mara was trapped in the emotional wake of his self discovery.

If this had happened when they first met, things might have been very different; she might have killed him, and if unsuccessful, their association might have taken a different, more personal turn. A decade ago, younger, not yet entrenched in separate, self-contained lives, they might have found a rhythm, a balance of power. But long since locked in a dance unfettered by romance, their partnership had never demanded the compromise or shared vulnerability of an intimate relationship. To alter the steps now was impossible, for doing so would require one partner to accede to the other. Mara was certain that these recent dalliances aside, he would never relinquish his uncompromising self-control, and failing that, she would forever be a student to the Master.

Mara returned to the Bacchanalia data. These were concrete, resolvable problems that followed predictable patterns and rules.

Some time later she heard the groggy mind next door begin to stir. She waited a few moments, and then ventured to the damned unlocked door. If he had been in the basement, such courtesies would have been immaterial. "I've got tea, do you want some?" She heard only a mumbled, incoherent response, apparently a yes.

She drew the blanket more firmly about her and then shuffled into the room, bearing the carafe and two cups. There was a lump in the bed denying the march of morning into afternoon. Setting a cup down on the nightstand next to the end she thought was his head, Mara then retreated, nestling into a chair as an animal circling before finding its rest.

The lump groaned and then mumbled, "Thanks. Is this just the after effects of Yur's home brew?" A hand emerged from under the covers and fumbled for the remedial cup, drawing it in.

Mara sipped from her own cup. "Probably. But we had a busy day. Although it seems ages ago, we did get through the belt yesterday."

Another groan. "And then one of the worst dinner parties of my entire life."

Mara tried to muster sympathy. "Well, I can't believe you have been to all that many."

The head and torso emerged with a cringe. "All the more reason why this one was such a disaster."

Mara issued as a prim reprimand as a wild haired woman swaddled in blankets could. "Well dinner guests usually do not make a point of breaking social and cultural taboos and getting a lecture by the hostess."

Speaking through a yawn, Skywalker confessed, "Oh yeah, I guess that happened too."

This time Mara groaned. "What else did you do?"

Drawing strength from the hot stimulant, Luke felt better prepared for Mara's condemnation. He looked over at her and was immediately heartened; Mara had curled into a chair, presumably tucking her legs under her. The ambiguity of her means of support resulted because nothing was visible except the legs of the chair and her head; the rest was swathed in a fluffy pink blanket. The image was both deceptively fragile and ridiculous; for a myriad of reasons, pink was not Mara's color. "Well, Yur tried probing me again, and this time I smashed into him."

"Unbelievable," said the disembodied head.

Luke was torn between pulling a pillow over his own head or pummeling the raving bitch lunatic with it. "Part of this is not my fault, so stop making it sound as if I'm to blame here. For all your talk about Force courtesy, no one has extended the same courtesy to me."

"What did you do?" she asked in a tone as frigid as the room.

"Gosh, Mara, what would you do under those circumstance, hmm? Just let a stranger rake through your emotional state? You know our shielding is almost automatic, particularly in the face of an untrained probe. Yur deliberately put me off balance, asked some very rude questions, and then tried a very aggressive probe."

Suspicious skepticism laced her query, "Yur? Really? What could he have possibly said to deserve the crushing blow of his life you no doubt leveled?"

"Trust me, he is very protective of you. He asked me why I had not married you."

Her censure evaporated into stunned silence. "Oh." She smiled slightly. "Poor Jedi. I had a similar problem with Rodica. I tried to explain, but it was difficult to do so without also telling her who you really were."

"Mara, they figured that out." When she did not respond, he continued, "Dona knew I was a Jedi from almost the moment I walked in the door. She sensed my artificial hand, knew what I had done to Rodica. It didn't take any tremendous leaps in logic, particularly because . . ." His voice trailed off.

"What?"

"Well she knows who you are too, what you were, as she described it, 'whose hand controlled you.' I don't think her choice of words was accidental."

She slumped glumly into the blanket and chair.

"Dona said that she even knew that you had wanted to kill me."

"There you go using the past tense again, Skywalker." Her light answer was contradicted by a swell of frustration.

"What's wrong?"

A mound of pink fuzz shrugged with resignation. "I guess I just don't want all that to interfere with my work here."

Thinking again of the neatly labeled files of her organized life, Luke thought he understood the real reason for her perturbation. "Well, I think it's impossible to conceal anything from Dona. Do you have any idea how powerful she is? If it's any consolation, Dona said they've known ever since you lived with them, but they haven't said anything because they knew you wanted to keep these things separate."

Mara said sourly, "Am I that obvious?"

Luke did not know what to say; to him it had become obvious. "I suppose you can't keep everything so segregated, sometimes the lines do get blurred." He didn't think that his mild statement merited the glare he received. Luke changed the subject to spare himself a lashing he was not prepared to receive. "I notice Artoo is missing. Have you disintegrated him, or just couldn't keep your hands off my droid?"

Mara unfolded herself from the chair. "I snuck in earlier and stole it."

"Well, thanks for letting me sleep in."

Mara's response was lofty. "That wasn't hard. All I wanted was the droid."

"Were you able to figure out what the 'Sucker List' was?"

Mara furrowed her face in a quizzical expression. "Sort of. According to the file, it appears that every "sucker" has bought wine from Bacchanalia within the last four months. But 'sucker' is a peculiar term to use to describe one's loyal customers."

"So what's on for today?"

"Since yesterday was a market day, I want to wait until tomorrow to sell the remaining cargo. And I want to spend some time with that data."

"You know Mara, I think we should open a credit account at the Tirgu Muresh Credit Exchange operated by the eminent Kyle family."

"You know, Luke, I think that's a fine idea."

Mara was camped in front of the terminal with Artoo when Luke joined her a short while later. Mara could not help flinching at his approach from behind, and noted that he gave her a respectful distance. She was simultaneously relieved and annoyed. And then became annoyed at the fact that she was annoyed. Leave it to a Jedi to make everything complicated.

"Do you ever leave that terminal?"

"Hey, profit is a powerful incentive for me."

"And you call me boring." Luke pulled up a chair to share the view of the screen. "Find anything else?"

"I'd hoped to find correspondence with the some of the people on the lists, but either it wasn't in the Bacchanalia network, or they delete all the files."

Luke stared at the files scrolling by. "I missed your conversation with Yur. Did he know anything about the net failure?"

She continued staring ahead, but answered, "Yes and no. Yes they happened, no, he doesn't know anything about it other than that it did happen. He was on duty the first time. He said the net just crashed, went down completely. Lasted only a few minutes, and apart from his encounter with you, it was, no doubt, the most alarming experience of his life. The second time, supposedly the same thing. They had some techs working on it and they couldn't find a problem."

"So Borkin was right that far."

"Yes. And but for the latest bit of incompetence regarding the Credit Exchange, I might have even forgiven him."

Luke's response was similarly disdainful. "It takes a certain amount of temerity for an agent to cite his own runner as his 'confidential source.' Wait, go back a minute, let's take a look at that one."

Mara moved back up the file roster to "Investors," saying as she did so, "But if Dazern Kyle is his source in the Exchange, why didn't his report contain better information about Bacchanalia?"

They waited while the ancient computer weighed the alternatives of opening the file, or collapsing into electronic rubble. Luke muttered with some irritation, both with the computer and the lack of any NRI support, "We could ask her that if she ever makes an appearance."

Mara kept hitting the enter key, foolishly thinking that it might motivate the rodents powering the computer. "Maybe she can't because she's in the same place Borkin is."

Her comment made him recall other parts of the dinner party from hell. "Yur knew we were looking for Borkin."

Mara continued looking at the flashing "please wait while accessing file" message on the screen. "Did he tell you that before or after you cudgeled him?"

Typical, just typical. "He told me right after I explained to him that marriage to you was likely to be fatal to me. Yur was very understanding."

She finally turned to look at him, curving her mouth into a sardonic smile. "You make it sound as if I'm unique. I'd lay odds that no would-be bride of yours would make it through the courtship stage without becoming murderous."

"Mara, what do you do when you don't have me around to hone your wit to such a sharp edge? Pull the wings off insects?"

The computer finally ceased accessing, and began showing the Investor file. Mara replied smugly, "I kick Ewoks around."

"Ha! I should have known. Is this something specific to Ewoks, or just soft, cute things in general?"

Mara countered stoutly, "Ewoks look like something invented by a holovid producer to encourage the purchase of children's toys tied to Tales of the Jedi. I dislike them on principle."

During Mara's defense of her antipathy to all things cute, Luke exploited the opportunity and commandeered the terminal controls from her. "There's an awful lot of them aren't there," Luke said, referring to the names in the Investor file. "No one seems to have more than about a 1% interest. That's spreading ownership pretty thin. Recognize the names?"

Mara reached over his blocking elbow and arm, seized the view commands and began studying the scrolling list. "Some of them. I don't know if it's a shock really. It seems to be most of the major Imperial families here in Tirgu."

Luke thought they had found something important, a small but significant piece of an intricate puzzle. "Well, maybe that's where your credit influx is coming from."

"You mean the Bacchanalia owners are in fact getting rich selling mediocre wine and have more credits to throw around for goods here in Tirgu?"

"It's not out of the question, if, as it appears, the Bacchanalia owners are the same people who normally buy your goods. What made me think of it was something we'd see on Tatooine. In that kind of isolated one crop economy, a good harvest was always a mixed blessing. With prosperity, you had more credits and had more to spend, but so did everybody else. You end up competing with everyone for the same goods, and driving the prices up."

If she continued to surprise him, Luke was no less a continuing surprise to her. "Pretty soon you'll be adding Master Economist and Master Trader to your titles, Skywalker. Remind me, should the day ever come, to never try to compete with you."

Luke, having wrested the terminal controls from her to close down the investor file, and preoccupied with reviewing the menu options, replied distantly, "We compete every minute of every day. That's what we're doing now. Let's see if can find a record of Bacchanalia payments or dividends to its investors."

After an hour of bruised ribs and elbows in a jostling match over access to the terminal, the rodents finally expired from the demands placed upon them and the computer crashed. If records of the dividends paid to Bacchanalia owners existed in the computer's primeval innards, they were inaccessible until the power source had time to feed and rest.

This time Mara was the voice of reason and restraint. "Tsk, tsk Jedi Master, what has happened to that renowned composure?"

Through gritted teeth Luke responded, "I will be much more composed if you let me throw the damn thing out the window."

"Only if you agree to pay the damage deposit. Besides, there might be a wrongful injury action against you if you hurt a passerby. And why resort to such violent means when there are alternatives."

Luke was not mollified. "But I'd feel better."

"Certainly, but imagine how much better you'd feel if we just stole the records from the Credit Exchange."

"Ah, true. And perhaps make contact with the elusive Miss Kyle."

ooOOoo

They entered the Tirgu Muresh Credit Exchange, and conveniently found "Dazern Kyle" under the heading "New Accounts." They were directed to a cubicle toward the rear, a name plate on the prefabricated divider read "Miss Dazern Kyle," and was decorated with stenciled hearts and flowers.

A breathtakingly beautiful girl in a smashing pink suit sat behind a desk, her hands folded carefully. Unlike Mara, she looked fabulous in pink. "Miss Kyle?" Mara asked. Miss Kyle stood to greet her guests. Mara took the limp hand Kyle offered, saying "I'm Captain Mara Jade."

"Hello, Captain Jade." Kyle seated was lovely, Kyle standing, was astounding - porcelain perfect face framed by dark ringlets, statuesque, legs to her chin, impeccable style. Having sold several of them before, Mara knew Kyle's hand tailored suit ran in the thousands of credits.

Kyle shook Luke's hand with an inquiring glance, "I'm Luke, the co-pilot."

"Well, won't you both be seated. And your droid too, how cute. Does it talk?"

Mara was slightly startled, the conversation not having begun as she expected on several fronts - Kyle was very cool for one so young to not betray even a hint of recognition, she hoped Skywalker would not embarrass her by drooling, she thought most people knew astromech droids only communicated in binary and she had never heard of any droid referred to as "cute."

"No, Miss Kyle, regrettably my unit does not know Basic."

Kyle gave a little resigned shrug, "What can we do for you today?"

"I came in system yesterday, intending to sell my cargo. Given the amounts involved I want to open a credit account here." During the conversation, Luke had been carefully reading Kyle. He knew she was not Force sensitive; indeed she seemed insensitive to practically everything.

Kyle began assembling the necessary documentation on her tidy work space, "Certainly. The Exchange appreciates your business. How large a deposit will you be making to the account, Captain Jade?"

"Ten thousand." Silently, Mara asked Luke, _"She didn't recognize my name, did she?"_

_"Not that I could tell." _

Mara began completing the deposit cards. "My droid carries my credit deposit and withdrawal records. It will need to connect with the Exchange computer so that I will be able to access those records later and execute my transactions."

It was a lame excuse, but they had figured for Kyle all they needed was a plausible reason. Kyle however became confused. "Well, that's very unusual. I will need to check with the manager."

Mara said nothing, continuing to complete the account process, providing a thumb scan and proffering her credit transfer card. She began casually, "I haven't been here for several months and some of my old haunts have closed. Do you know where we could get some sunburns?"

Kyle furrowed her pretty features into a small frown, "I'm afraid there aren't any nice beaches in Tirgu."

Mara's dissembling inspired reverence, although Luke could feel her wariness rise with Kyle's failure to provide the appropriate acknowledgement, she did not hesitate a moment. "Actually, I meant the drink."

"Oh, well I suppose some of the restaurants might serve them."

Mara returned to the account records, sending to Luke a thought, "_Is this a set up? Is she for real?"_

He responded silently, _"I don't get any concealment or anxiety. She simply didn't recognize the code word." _

Luke tried a different approach. "What about the Sunspot Cantina?" He thought the reference might jog Kyle's apparently unused faculties of memory and reason.

Dazern blushed with maidenly offense. "The Sunspot Cantina? Oh I'm sure I don't know. I never go there. It's not a place for respectable women."

Luke heard a triumphant jeer in his mind, _"Well, here's your respectable girlfriend, can I get my commission now?" _

He shot Mara a glare, and tried again with a riskier query. "Miss Kyle, we thought we might meet a friend of yours there, Witten Borkin?"

With the mention of Borkin's name, they finally hit their mark. Tears welled in Dazern's delicate blue eyes, "Oh, do you know where Witten is? I've been so worried about him."

Luke and Mara came to the same conclusion at the same instant - there was nothing feigned in Dazern's anxious, emotional reaction. Although astounded and disgusted that this was the supposed NRI agent runner, Kyle was legitimate; she was also apparently an idiot.

Mara scanned the exchange, saw no one observing their activities, and flashed a "go ahead" to Luke. Luke said quietly to the distraught, snuffling girl, "Dazern, we have some mutual friends who are worried about him too."

Comprehension suddenly dawned, a light shining in the empty rooms of her brain. Dazern opened her neat little desk, and removed a booktape bearing the title "New Republic Intelligence Verrat Briefing Guide." She started to say, "Oh, I think I know who you are now, Captain Jade. You must be from . . .."

Mara immediately dropped her data pad on top of the Guide, pinching Dazern's immaculately manicured hands, and interrupting her ill advised commentary. "Sweetie," Mara said in her most pleasantly dangerous voice, "why don't we open the account, let me plug the droid in, and then we can go somewhere nice and quiet for a little chat?"

Luke casually picked up the data pad and the booktape, removing the classified material from Dazern's possession forever.

"Captain," Dazern protested, "you broke one of my nails."

Rather than lunging across the desk at Dazern to systematically break the remaining four nails on her frail, white right hand, Mara elected an alternatively wicked tactic. She affected outrageous remorse. "I'm so sorry, Dazern. And they are such pretty nails, too." Mara felt a mental wince from Luke, and pressed on. "I bet you work hard on them don't you?"

The girl nodded with serious pride. "I put a different coat of polish on every day to match my outfits."

"Oh, Luke did you notice that?" Mara ogled admiringly. "Every day? Dazern, I have an idea," Mara gushed in a confiding tone. "Let's finish this nasty financial stuff, and then we'll buy you a nice beverage at some establishment suitable for respectable women such as yourself. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Mara heard chortling laughter in her head.

Incredibly, Dazern objected again as Artoo made the connection to the access port at the desk and began the data dump. Dazern whispered so loudly, it was a miracle the entire exchange was not privy to their activity, "I really should ask the manager. It might copy confidential records."

Luke responded with astonishment, "No? Really? Mara, would your droid do something like that?"

Mara placed a hand over her heart, "Your respectability and discretion are admirable Dazern. But, I give you my word as a lady..." She had to pause to clear the whopping guffaw from her mind. "The droid will only do what I've instructed it to do. Now, where can we get that drink? I know I would like something frozen and sweet, with an umbrella in it."

Dazern cooed, "Oh, I like those too."

"I just knew you would Dazern. The perfect drink for respectable women." She accented the word with a mental punctuation mark, just to make sure Luke got the message.

The dump complete, Dazern recommended a charming, and fortunately mostly empty, restaurant near the Exchange. True to her word, Mara did indeed order and quickly down two frozen pink drinks, having lost the mental battle with Luke on the advisability of ordering an entire pitcher each just to get through the interview. Luke removed the paper umbrellas from easy reach, thereby thwarting Mara's silent pledge to poke Dazern's eyes out with them.

Mara's peculiarly reckless humor left Luke to attempt the debriefing, "Dazern, do you understand who we are?"

"I think so, but I could I please look at my book for a moment?"

She fumbled through the readout, and after much face screwing and little sighs, eventually found the entry about contacting Mara. "Well it says that you trade here, Mara, and that I could contact you if I needed to, and that you would probably tell Chief of State Organa Solo, General Solo or Jedi Master Skywalker." She looked up at Mara with wondrous awe. "Do you really know them?" She turned her lovely eyes on Luke, "Isn't it funny that your name is Luke too?"

Luke heard an unspoken plea, _"Can I just kill her, please?"_

"Dazern, you don't even need to go through Mara, I'm Luke Skywalker."

"Oh sure. Stop teasing me. Everyone knows he doesn't look anything like you."

Mara stifled a laugh, suspecting the source of Dazern's misconception and anticipating some further fun. She asked seriously, "How would you know that, Dazern?"

"Because I've seen all of the Tales of the Jedi - you don't look like him at all."

Feeling Luke's flustered reaction, Mara was bent on encouraging these fascinating revelations. She queried, "You don't see any resemblance, Dazern?"

The girl shook her head, curls bouncing off her padded pink shoulders. "No, the real Luke Skywalker is much younger..."

Mara and Luke both choked, Luke almost losing his drink on the table. Mara whispered into his mind, _"Bet you'd let me kill her now."_

Oblivious, Dazern babbled on. "He's more ..." She sighed wistfully, "Dashing, very handsome."

Between the asphyxiation and horror, Luke was as pink as Dazern's suit and drink.

Dazern blinked at Luke apologetically, "Not that you are not very nice, Luke, but the real Master Skywalker is a hero, you know."

Mara was beginning to worry, admonishing Luke silently that if he died on the spot, she'd kill him because she would have such a hard time finding another co-pilot in Tirgu to get through the belt. She slid a glass of water to him as Luke glowered at her.

Dazern prattled, "Besides," she added, "if you were really Luke Skywalker, you wouldn't be with Mara."

Seeing an opening, Luke pounced before Mara could, "Why is that Dazern?"

"It's obvious, isn't it Luke? I have seen all the other Tales, and Mara, you are much too old for him."

Luke squelched his own laughter as he saw Mara finger her blaster. He sent her a stern mental warning.

_"I'd be doing evolution a favor,"_ she responded with conviction.

_"Will you behave?" _

_"Anything you say, grandpa." _

Luke began again, "Dazern, New Republic Intelligence sent us here because Borkin has missed his last two drops. We understand that he went to work at the Bacchanalia warehouse about eight weeks ago, and no one has seen him since. Can you tell us what happened?"

Dazern was very helpful; she burst into tears. Mara rolled her eyes and began handing table linens to the weepy girl, secretly elated to see Dazern's carefully applied cosmetics streak down her face.

She sobbed. "Daddy got Witten a job at the Warehouse. He went to work there and then after three days, just didn't come home. I'm so worried." The sob dissolved into a wail, "I asked Daddy to try to find him, but he wouldn't help me. He never liked Witten, doesn't approve of our marriage . . .."

Her revelation shocked Luke into momentary silence and jarred Mara out of her sardonic humor, "Dazern, are you and Borkin married?"

"No, but we are engaged. Once Witten uncovered Bacchanalia, we were going to leave Tirgu and go to Coruscant."

"Do you know what Borkin thought was going on at Bacchanalia?" Mara asked.

Tears began dripping down her face again. "He didn't know. It was just suspicious. That's why he wanted the job at the Warehouse." She heaved, "Oh, will you be able to rescue him?"

Luke administered a reassuring pat, "We'll see what we can do Dazern. But we do need some more information from you. You'll help us won't you?"

Mara might have felt a chance twinge with Luke's concern for the girl, but for the mild condescension she had detected in his voice.

Dazern snuffled back her tears, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand, looking suddenly far younger even than she actually was. She smiled weakly, "I'll try Luke."

He asked, "How did you become a runner?"

Her brief response encapsulated a life philosophy, "A what?"

"An agent runner, the person responsible for agents here?"

"What agents, Luke?"

He heard Mara ask, _"Wanna borrow my blaster?"_ Luke shook his head at Mara, confusing Dazern further. He tapped the briefing guide, "The agents described in here."

"Oh, well there's Witten but he's not an agent, he's my boyfriend." Unable to decipher the non sequiturs, Mara responded to his silent plea. She stepped into the conversation, but not before asking, _"To kill or to question?"_

_"At this point, I don't know if I care,"_ was his frustrated response.

Mara began conversationally, "So Dazern, how did you meet Witten?"

Dazern was enthusiastic with a question she could answer, "Oh, the same way I met you and Luke. He came into the Exchange to open an account."

"Really? What a coincidence. Did Witt give you that Guide?"

Dazern shook her head, dark ringlets flopping elegantly about her. "No. A man came into the Exchange about a year ago. We talked several times, and before he left, he asked if I wanted to earn some extra money doing very confidential work. Well you know how careful I was with your droid, he knew that I would keep everything secret."

"And you've done a fine job. So what did this man tell you?"

Dazern said slowly, "well, he gave me the Guide, and promised me 5,000 credits a year if I helped people who came to me like Witten did."

Mara did not miss a sly edge that had crept into Dazern's voice. "How did you help Witten?"

Dazern hesitated, then offered obliquely, "Well, Daddy goes off planet quite a bit. There were sometimes a few extra things in his luggage. He also thinks I have some girlfriends on Coruscant. I've also insisted that Daddy make sure the Exchange has good communications equipment, and of course since our family manages it, well, you know."

"I understand. Now has anyone else come to you for help besides Witten?"

Dazern responded carefully, "No, except for you and Luke of course."

Mara smiled, "And we appreciate what you've done Dazern."

"Thank you Mara, I, I..." A fountain of tears began gushing again.

Luke surveyed the room, concerned at the amount of attention Dazern was drawing, and feeling more than a little uncomfortable with all of this uncontrolled emotion - such episodes were simply not very common at the Jedi Academy. He muttered some awkward platitude, and this time Mara gave him a searing glare. He heard in his mind _"Worse than useless,"_ and realized Mara was actually referring to him, not Dazern.

Mara moved over to sit next to the weeping girl and put an arm around her. If Mara had thought Vader providing counsel to lonely hearts was bizarre, the sight of Mara offering sisterly solicitude was no less incongruous. Mara gestured imperiously for Luke to hand her a glass of water and some more linens.

"Now crying isn't going to help. You've been alone for weeks now, haven't you?" Dazern nodded, blowing her nose violently into the napkin Mara proffered. "And no one to talk to about this, and your father being so mean. What about your mother, or do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Only my parents knew, it was a secret. And Mummy feels the same way as Daddy."

Mara dabbed some water on one of the napkins and began cleaning the smears from Dazern's now less than perfect visage. "Mara, it's awful here, it's so lonely. There's nothing to do. And I got this money, and I thought I could save, get passage, go somewhere. Then, I met Witten, and it all seemed possible . . . " Her voice broke again.

"Now, don't worry, as Luke told you, we'll try to find him."

Dazern seized her hand. "Really you will? You'll help us escape?"

Suddenly realizing what Dazern was asking, the girl, in a moment of intuition, understood Mara's misgivings.

"Promise if you find Witten you won't leave me here."

Mara tried retreating, "Now . . ." but Dazern blocked the escape, "Promise, please."

"But Dazern . . ."

"Mara, please. Don't you know what that's like, to be separated from someone you love so much?"

Mara felt Luke's wince at that outburst. She concentrated on wiping another little streak from the corner of the girl's now red rimmed eyes, "No, Dazern, I don't know what that's like." She added silently, _"But I know someone who does."_ Aloud, she continued, "And I promise, we won't leave you here. Now, why don't you go freshen up a bit, we still need to talk about a few things, okay?"

As she left, Mara growled, "Not a word, farm boy."

Luke shook his head, his disapproval, evident. "I don't need to say anything. You know this complicates things enormously."

Mara nodded, slamming the remainder of both her drink and Dazern's. "I don't suffer fools gladly, except when they are the victims of another's folly. The one who deserves the slow burn is the agent who recruited her."

"Who would have expected you to be such a sentimentalist?"

Mara was twirling a paper parasol between her fingers, lightly tapping its pointed end. "You know, the Emperor always taught me to exploit what circumstance gave me. Would you like a lesson in that now?"

Luke edged slightly away from her. "That's something I just love about you Mara, you are so soft and cuddly, and yet I never know when a casual conversation can become life-threatening."

Dazern returned, a little puffy but none the worse for the bouts of crying. She knew nothing more that could help them, exchanging with them information on where she lived, how they could contact her and where she could reach them. Mara had deep misgivings exposing the girl; she, Luke and even Borkin for all his idiocy knew what was involved here, Dazern did not.

She tried to impart some of her fear to Dazern. "I want you to listen very carefully, and I don't want you to tell anyone about this, do you understand? If Witten is still in Tirgu, he is probably a prisoner somewhere. We need you to do three things. First, listen. Don't talk, just listen, if you hear anything, contact us. Second, if we come looking for you, be ready to move, and fast. It might be in the middle of your work, or in the middle of the night, but whenever it is, you're going to have to leave right away. Finally, please think about this. It may all come to nothing."

Mara suddenly remembered Luke's vision and thought otherwise. "But it could also be dangerous, very dangerous. If you're willing to take these risks for Witten, fine, but we won't think any less of you if you don't."

Dazern, however, remained resolute. So they left her at the Exchange, and subdued, walked to the hotel.

Luke observed at one point, "You know, she's not as stupid as she pretended to be."

"I know. She has kept her mouth shut, had the sense to stay out of places she knew she didn't belong, was rather calculating in her decision to take the money, and actually quite clever in how she handled the message drops. And having her at the Credit Exchange did mean access to communications and financial records. It was tremendous foresight on the part of her initial NRI contact, or simply fortuitous."

"Maybe some of both."

Mara interjected heatedly, "But whoever recruited her should never have exposed her that way. She clearly has no idea what she is playing with. She's barely out of her teens. And Borkin should have never fallen in love with his own runner." She finished angrily, "You don't run an intelligence operation that way and expect it to succeed."

Luke said nothing immediately. He was staring at the ground, slowing along the dirty sidewalk, kicking and shuffling.

Mara finally prompted him. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking that age isn't really the issue is it? By the time we were her age, I had killed hundreds of thousands of people in the first Death Star; you were a trained assassin and spy. Leia had been a Senator, a military leader and had seen the death of a few billion people with the destruction of her entire world. I tend to think that Dazern's world experience is a little more typical than ours, don't you?"

They said nothing else for the remainder of the walk.

Returning, Luke broke their silence, "Do you mind if I work on the computer in your room, and see what Artoo got on Bacchanalia?"

"No, go ahead, I'll join you in a little while."

Mara left him at the terminal, and went out to the balcony outside her room, wrapping herself in a rare moment of solitude. For two people who spent much time alone, she and Skywalker had been treading in the other's space a great deal of late.

After the riotous activity of the previous day, the street below was quiet. Mara contemplated other contrasts, staring at her hands, comparing them to Kyle's own flawless manicure. Mara didn't think she had ever worn nail polish in her life except as part of a cover. With these hands she had repaired hyperdrives, serviced every type of vehicle imaginable, entertained audiences, served drinks, closed deals worth hundreds of thousands of credits, piloted ships, blown enemies out of the sky, scintillated lovers, taken life, spared life. What would it be like, she wondered, to go through a day where the greatest task for your hands was to match nail polish to clothes to lip color? Non-humanoid species from a dozen systems were not as alien to her as Kyle was.

She pondered Luke's comparison. In contrast to Kyle, Mara felt small, deadly, cynical, and _old_. It was not merely that almost 20 years separated them; she had never had the girl's faith or trust, had never felt the comfort of home or family, had never enjoyed the pleasures of courtship. Mara had carried out her first assassination before the age of 18. The Emperor had robbed her of youth, of innocence, of romance, of all the things Kyle had and still enjoyed.

For what kind of bond would you abandon the security and stability Kyle had to embark upon unknown dangers and risks? She doubted that Borkin was worth that kind of sacrifice of any woman. And yet Dazern had pledged her loyalty to him. What would it be like to be separated from someone you loved?

She glanced in at Skywalker, glued to the terminal. For all his aggravating, glaring shortcomings, he had so inspired that kind of feeling that Callista had leaped into the body of another woman just to be with him; twit though she was, he very nearly lost his soul when she left him.

Mara certainly lived in the world far more than he, and yet in this, Skywalker, for all his emotional and physical isolation, had the better of her. Mara could no more imagine someone feeling such love for her than she could imagine bestowing it on a man. It was incomprehensible to her. Viewing, as she did, relationships in utilitarian terms, love and romance were very untidy concepts.

She scowled, disturbed that too much time around Skywalker and people like Dazern was disrupting her balance and priorities. Mara was a person of action, and left introspection and the foibles of love to philosophers, poets and naive, romantic idealists. She headed back inside, this kind of self-reflection led to things very foreign to Mara, things not unlike regret and doubt.

As she entered, Luke did not look around, but asked, "Feeling better?"

"I felt fine before. I was just considering what color nail polish to put on tonight."

Her blithe answer had not fooled him. "Funny, I had the impression you were carrying on an internal dialogue on the nature of love."

Damn him, no privacy at all. "I did that too, but it was a really short conversation. It began and ended with amazement that anyone could fall in love with such a fool as Borkin."

There was more than a hint of superiority in his reply, an irritating echo of her own musings, "You can't control everything, Mara. Love doesn't tend to fit into the places you allot for it."

"Skywalker, if you want to compete with me in that arena as well, don't bother. I'll cede you the victory. Now if you're done with your moralizing, want to tell me what you've found?"

Luke moved his chair over to make room for her, but took a firm hold of the terminal controls. "We were right about the dividends. In the last few months, the owners of Bacchanalia have received tens of thousands of credits from the company"

"So they are getting rich selling mediocre wine?"

She tried to muscle the control from him to scroll through the screen, but Luke held it fast.

"Yep, and apparently keeping and spending all the money in Tirgu. I don't know why they would spend it here, instead of doing the logical thing and transferring it off planet."

"I don't know why either, but I'm glad they have it to spend on my goods."

He chuckled. "Anyway, that's probably why prices have gone up so much. But I'll tell you something else. Even with all the money the owners are making, there's still more the company is not disbursing. What is being paid out in dividends to the Bacchanalia owners is nothing compared to what has been coming into Bacchanalia in payments."

"You mean there's cash sitting around that won't be spent on the purchase of my cargo? I'm deeply offended."

In spite of the squabbling and jostling for control of the computer, they were able to establish that Bacchanalia had raked in hundreds of millions of credits from buyers across the galaxy. They saw that the dividends paid to the Bacchanalia owners in Tirgu, although very large, accounted for only a small fraction of the total credits taken in by the company. They then began a painstaking and tumultuous search to discover both what could account for such stupendous sales of simple local wine and, since the profits were not being distributed to the Bacchanalia owners, where the remaining credits were being spent.

Mara erupted after the computer crashed a third time. "You've tasted the Verratan wine, would you pay this kind of money for a bottle?"

"Of course not, which means there's got to be something here that they are smuggling; something that there is so much of and that is so valuable, they've been shipping it continuously for four months."

Mara felt her jaw lock in grinding frustration. "Of course there's got to be something. But based on this data, we have no way of tracing what those goods might be. We also know that huge sums of credits are coming in, and much smaller sums are going to shareholders - that means there is a lot leftover that is going somewhere. We can't follow the goods so we should follow the money."

The computer lurched to life, and Luke seized the controls again.

When they almost came to blows over which credit transfer files to plunder, Mara took a break. The day had worn into early evening and she at least was ready for a little liquid cheer. "I'm going down to the bar to pick up a bottle. There is no way I can continue to look at that data with you unless I am better fortified."

"You're the one who keeps crashing the computer by hitting the enter button a thousand times," Luke scoffed.

Oh she wanted to wring his neck. "And you keep trying to look at thirteen files at once. If we only opened one at a time in a systematic way, we wouldn't have to wait 30 minutes every time we want to look at something new."

He swore at her retreating back, "I'm being creative. You just can't deal with anything unless it's linear."

Mara stormed out and down to the bar, paying premium top credit for tall, straight brandy. Skywalker was in her room, on her computer, in her life, in her mind, and under her skin. If the bartender thought it unusual to see a woman seated at a bar pounding her head into the counter he gave no sign.

She finished her brandy and then weighed the more economical alternatives of tolinka or Verratan wine. They were headed to the Spot tonight and it seemed a little early for liquid lightening. Mara had just started a bottle of white wine when she felt the jolt four floors away. Startling the bartender, Mara grabbed the bottle, shouted at him to put in on her tab, bolted into the lobby, plowed into a pensioner, and eschewing the sluggish lift, sprinted up the stairs to their rooms. "What is it, what'd you find?"

Skywalker swiveled from the terminal to face her, bleak and grim. "I think I could use some of that, if you didn't spill all of it in your mad dash up here."

She handed him the bottle, repeating more anxiously, "What did you find?"

He gestured her over to her seat, letting her review the screen while taking a deep draught from the bottle, grimacing slightly at the wine's sweet taste. He let the significance of the data before her sink in, then offered wryly, "Mara, I knew it was competitive out there but isn't this a little extreme?"

She said nothing immediately, studying the neat columns documenting Bacchanalia's payment history and outgoing credit transfers to and deposits into the accounts of other businesses. Mara took the bottle back and matching his same dry tone added, "Maybe it's just a very aggressive attempt to monopolize the intergalactic wine market."

They both leaned back at the same time and sighed, sharing silently the same thoughts, that it was time to get back to work again, that maybe they were too old and complacent for this kind of thing, that circumstance had once again paired them with a competent partner who could handle a fire fight. Passing the bottle back and forth, they stared at the detailed record of huge Bacchanalia payments to every major arms dealer and weapons supplier in the galaxy.

Putting her feet up on the desk, Mara shut her eyes and began massaging her temples, wondering why every trip with Skywalker seemed to end this way. Luke tilted his own chair back, running his hand through hair that might be thinner and a little greyer after this was over. "I don't see how a merchant selling this kind of wine could be making enough money to buy a Star Destroyer, do you?" he asked.

Mara was idly reading the wine label. "Cut throat competition aside, I'd like to know why Bacchanalia feels the need for a squadron of short range fighters and all that blast armor."

Luke emitted a weary snort. "Looks like a few more people decided to join our party."

"I just wish they had just sent their regrets. Someone who brings a thermal detonator might be fun, but Skywalker, someone who brings an AT-AT is just a gate crasher."

ooOOoo

After several more hours in front of the terminal, Luke and Mara had a clearer picture of Bacchanalia's activity - the company had sprouted from nowhere; shipping and selling cheap local wine throughout the galaxy, Bacchanalia had earned hundreds of millions in credits in a few short months and had then embarked upon the ambitious acquisition of some very sophisticated and nasty weaponry.

In the middle of Bacchanalia's most recent cash flow statement, Luke abruptly snatched the terminal controls from Mara and closed down the screen.

"I've had enough. Everything we look at adds only marginally to our understanding of what is going on and increases my concern over what we do understand by a factor of 10 or so. Bacchanalia is smuggling. And with the profits, they are buying a lot of offensive military hardware. Even if that's all we report to Coruscant, we will have done more than NRI could accomplish here."

Mara first sputtered that he took her terminal control, then felt relieved that he did, then wanted to argue about it. She finally laughed and stood, stretching muscles abused by too much close computer work. "You're right. Make sure to note the occasion, it doesn't happen very often."

She paced about the room. "But we still should see if we can find Borkin. Yur will probably stop by the Spot tonight. We can ask him if he's learned anything. And I owe the boys a drink."

Luke shrugged. "Sure, I'm up for the Spot."

"And . . ."

Hearing that mischievous tone in Mara's voice, Luke immediately became wary. "Uh oh."

Mara was pleased to turn the tables; Luke was still seated at the terminal, enabling her to stalk him from behind. She wrapped an arm around his neck in, for the moment, a gentle head lock.

He tilted his head back, to meet the gaze of his antagonist, "What do you have in mind now?"

Mara tightened her grip ever so slightly, "Pursuit of profit."

"How?"

"You do the pursuing, I get the profit."

Ahh, he should have guessed, "Verrat's too far, I told you that."

Her throttling strengthened, "Sorry, but I'm not going to let this opportunity for enrichment pass me by. Despite Dazern's concerns, you might find some girl respectable enough even for your tastes at the Spot. Besides, after your performance last night, it's clear to me that you have been out of circulation way too long. You need the practice."

Luke could not help but grin, even if she could also snap his neck in a fit of pique. He took a gamble in his reply; if Mara became violent, he could always break her arm or flip her over the terminal onto the floor, and could probably do so before she choked him. "I so admire the sensitive and ladylike way in which you express yourself. And it's reassuring to know that you have your best interests at heart."

She stared down at his upturned face, "I know I said I would charge you extra for dating advice, but I'm in a charitable mood, so here's a freebie. I suggest you stick to that aw shucks, farm boy charm. Bat those baby blues of yours, and maybe some sweet young thing will fall for it."

"How flattering that you've noticed the color of my eyes."

It was impossible to fluster her; she tightened her grip to the level of almost, but not quite discomfort and shut her eyes, "I bet you know the color of mine Skywalker."

"Uhh, brown right?"

She bent down and whispered, "Liar."

ooOOoo

* * *

To follow, **Chapter 8, Follow the Money, Part 2**

Luke and Mara drink and break yet more laws. Mara provides dating advice.

_Amid a chorus of snores, Mara responded, "You have strange notions of fun Skywalker. It's the middle of the night, we're in a derelict speeder, have a drunken pair in the back seat, a couple of blasters, and two light sabers. Fun is not the word that leaps to mind."_


	8. Chapter 8 Follow the Money, Part 2

**Stuff  
****By Gheorghe2**

CHAPTER 8  
_FOLLOW THE MONEY, Part 2_

Luke and Mara drink and break yet more laws. Mara provides dating advice.

_Amid a chorus of snores, Mara responded, "You have strange notions of fun Skywalker. It's the middle of the night, we're in a derelict speeder, have a drunken pair in the back seat, a couple of blasters, and two light sabers. Fun is not the word that leaps to mind."_

* * *

The only thing more seedy than the outside of the Sunspot Cantina was the inside. It was indistinguishable from every other minor cantina, in every other minor city, on every other minor planet in the galaxy. When Luke and Mara descended into the Spot's smoky, dark depths, they were greeted by a chorus of shouted cheer. The credit supply had apparently just arrived. Mara waved to her friends arrayed at the bar, snagged two drinks and then joined Luke at a booth along the wall. In keeping with the Tirgu milieu, the patrons were all human, and the bar only served home grown brews - bitter, sharp tasting, potent, potentially lethal in sufficient quantities. Mara was thrilled, Luke, a little more dubious.

Mara slid in, across from Luke pushing both drinks across the table at him. "Now, do you know the two drink ploy?"

It was like she was speaking a different language. "The what?"

"You should always have two drinks, your own and a fresh one. If you get into a nice, 'conversation,' you can offer her the drink. If you need to escape, you tell her that you had gotten the drink for me, and that I'll be very annoyed if I don't get it real soon." She was exuberant, irrepressible,

"Mara, are you enjoying this reaffirmation of your Master status?"

Her voice was low and ominously gay in response. "You have no idea." She continued with alarming earnestness, "Do you think you'll recognize the standard lines, besides 'want to go and look at some star lines?'"

That foreign language again. "Lines?"

Mara uttered an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Yes, lines. Do you come here often? Not from around here are you? You have beautiful eyes, they are the window to your soul. So, enough about me, tell me about you. And if you decide to dance, don't embarrass my instruction O.K.? I do have standards."

"And what will you be doing during all of this?" Luke was certain he already knew.

Her crafty smile was pure evil at times. "I thought I would work on split concentration exercises."

"Huh?"

"Don't hang your mouth open like that Skywalker, it's very unbecoming. I intend to keep an ear on your progress, provide running advice."

Luke sighed with mock despair, "I knew I'd regret seeing you complete your training. And where will you bestow the remainder of your concentration?"

"Looking for a co-pilot."

He had thought as much, "Well maybe I'll work on my split concentration too. I can no doubt pick up a few pointers from the Master, right?"

She slipped out of the booth, "Well I'm off."

"What, you're just going to leave me here?"

She gave him a hard, amused look. "Skywalker, you've been in the rancor den, faced down Darth Vader, the Emperor, the clone of the Emperor, a dead dark Lord of the Sith, the clone of a crazy Jedi Master, and worst of all, survived a hyperspace jump with me. What could you possibly have to worry about in a bar? Well, let me amend that, in this bar. Besides, make a note of it, this is twice in one day, some kind of galactic record no doubt - you were right, no woman will come near you if I sit too close."

"You're right Mara."

She laughed, and headed to the waiting arms and gullets of about a dozen men, slapping a credit transfer card on the bar.

Luke felt ridiculous, but not for long. He spied a cluster of women at one end of the room, and nodded to them. Almost the moment Mara was out of physical earshot, one of the women began making her way deliberately across the bar. "Physical" was the important qualifier, because Luke heard in his head, _"Blonde approaching on a near vector, intercept course." _

She was lovely, in a soft, pleasant sort of way. "Anyone sitting here?" Luke was amazed he remembered the correct response, "Not unless you do." He heard, _"Good answer Jedi." _

"I'm Mihella, you must be Luke."

To his surprise Mihella slid into the seat next to, rather than across from, him. "That's right, how did you know that?"

Mihella shrugged, it was a dainty, pleasing gesture. "Everyone knows Captain Jade brought a new co-pilot. But . . ." she hesitated, with a wary glance toward the bar.

"What?"

"Well, she won't mind will she?"

Luke was a little confused. "You mean Mara, mind what?"

Mihella peeked at him out of the corner of her warm brown eye. "Well, the guys had said that you weren't Captain Jade's usual. But we" she motioned at her girlfriends across the bar carefully monitoring their exchange, "we weren't sure. I wouldn't want her angry with me for poaching."

Luke heard Mara's smug aside, _"She's a smart girl, Skywalker."_

Finally understanding the misapprehension, he shook his head, with a laugh. "No, the 'guys' were right. I've known Mara for a long time, her co-pilot backed out at the last minute and she asked me to fill in." Luke gave a nod toward the bar, Mara having disappeared in a circle of young male admirers. "She certainly wouldn't mind."

_"You are so right, Skywalker, but don't go any further until you find out how much she's worth." _

He retorted,_ "You're just jealous because you haven't yet matched my quick success with Mihella." _

_"Ha. We'll see who gets invited to look at star lines first." _

Ignorant of the exchange, Mihella gave a sigh of genuine relief, and smiling, moved in a little closer, "Can I have a sip?" Although he did not object, Luke was surprised when Mihella started drinking from his own glass.

Mara was whooping, _"That was quick work Skywalker, not bad for an old Jedi." _

"I thought so," Mihella said.

This was going to get confusing, "You thought so, what?"

Mihella spoke sagely and with a tone of much experience in such matters, "You don't seem like Captain Jade's type at all."

In response to the hooting laughter in his head, Luke issued a reproving,_ "Pay more attention to your own admirers."_ To Mihella he could only chuckle at the observation, "I think you're probably right. But why do you think so?"

She took another sip of his drink. "You're more, mature."

Not the ringing compliment he was expecting. "Now that's the second time today a pretty woman has called me old."

Mihella flushed, stammering and embarrassed - it was a charming, and probably deliberate, effect. "That isn't what I meant at all. I just meant, well, Captain Jade usually prefers," she looked over at the bar to the tall, overly confident, good-looking youngsters swarming around Mara, "Well, like that."

Having seen their clones on and off for years in Mara's company, Luke knew instantly what Mihella meant.

Mihella turned her soupy eyes to him, "And I can tell that you're nothing like them, are you Luke?"

Mara hissed into his mind, _"Hey Skywalker, don't you recognize this script?" _

"Well Mihella, if that's the basis for comparison then I agree with you, I am definitely not her type."

"And," Mihella edged over confidingly, "if I may be say so, I don't think she's your type either."

_"Come on Jedi, ask her the question, ask it." _

Luke was mortified he was able to get the ridiculous line out without blushing or excessive sarcasm, "So if Mara isn't my type who is?"

Mara and Mihella both responded, "Why someone like me of course."

Luke glared at the redheaded joker at the bar. She had a drink in one hand, and a well muscled hand and arm wrapped around her shoulder- the arm and hand belonging to one of what Mihella euphemistically referred to as "Captain Jade's type." Several others were clamoring competitively for her attention._ "Mara, better make sure they can drink legally in here." _

_"I already asked Jedi, they're all above the age of consent." _

Mihella noticed his interest in the bar activities. "It's always like that when she comes."

"Really?"

"She's very popular, attractive, rich, quite generous."

For Luke it was yet another part of that strange mosaic that was Mara. It was ironic to him that these flattering men really had no understanding of that complex, dangerous personality; he abruptly realized that their ignorance was quite calculated on Mara's part.

Mihella continued, "Most of them are pilots, or think they are. They sit around here waiting for Captain Jade to hire them on, or for Bacchanalia to call up a Verratan pilot after one of their off world ships goes down in the belt. Neither has ever happened."

Although interested in pursuing these riveting observations, Luke caught something wistful in her voice. Mihella had been watching Mara and her extra appendage with more intensity than good form in a bar normally dictated. Luke asked, "Is he a special friend of yours?"

"Maybe," Mihella paused, "a little. But as you can see," she nodded toward the young man glued to Mara, "Dran has other priorities." Mihella arrested any embarrassment Luke might have felt for Mara. "It's not that I mind. Everyone knows Captain Jade can be a ticket out of here."

Luke knew he should not have been shocked by the mercurial calculation, and with some quick thinking, came up with the appropriate co-pilot script for the conversation. "She does pay well."

Mihella nodded seriously. "Very well. And in hard credits, not goods. She treats her crews well, they get good experience. She might get them started in trading. But as I said, I don't think it will happen."

"It might. Since I'm just the temp, I won't be doing more than this run with her."

Mihella helped herself to more of his drink, saying slyly, "I'm surprised to hear you say that. It seemed to me you know Captain Jade very well."

Luke did not rise to her verbal probe. "We've known each other a long time, met a few years after the war."

Mihella's mouth formed an attractive little "oh." She asked casually, "What war was that?"

At first Luke thought she had made some joke that had simply eluded him. "The Rebellion against the Empire."

"You mean like on Tales of the Jedi?"

He heard jeering laughter again, and responded smartly, _"You ask your date if he knows who the Chief of State is." _

He tuned in and overheard Mara ask,_ "So what do you think of Organa Solo's new coalition in the Senate?" _

The deafening silence spoke volumes. _"You did say you liked them dumb, Mara." _

To Mihella he said, "Well the Tales are highly fictionalized, but most of them are based on real events."

Mihella was all amazement, "Really? Wow. I didn't know that."

Although Luke was relieved that he had not been recognized during the trip, he was astounded that someone could also be so ignorant, and was struggling to avoid leaping to any hasty and unflattering conclusions. "Are you familiar with the Annals of the Rebellion or the Thrawn Histories?"

"Are those episodes from the Tales? I don't think I've seen them." Even puzzled, Mihella was very attractive.

"No, they're not holovids, they're historical accounts of what really happened."

"Oh. Well, I was never very good at history." She took another sip, and rested a hand on his arm. "But enough about all that dry, boring stuff with old and dead people, tell me about you..."

Mara tore herself away from Dran's inexpert mangling for a look at what was going on at the booth. From Mara's view, Mihella seemed to be crowding Skywalker into the corner. The sight was irritating for many reasons, Mara doubting that the well endowed blonde at his side could appreciate the few good qualities Skywalker had, although maybe Mihella had all the qualities he was seeking.

Although she attempted to banish such thoughts, and then to banish the fact that she even had the thoughts in the first place, Dran was, regrettably, not providing an adequate distraction for her. Mara abandoned any pretense of following the rambling exhortations of his extraordinary skills in pilot simulation games. Earning points for creativity; in a variation of a line even Mara had not heard before, Dran wanted to show her his scar from a knife fight. She begged off, wondering if showing him a few of her own scars would silence his ill-placed bravado. Which ones to show occupied her for a while: the scars earned during the Emperor's hand to hand combat training, the healed blaster burns, the head and torso injuries from that crack up in the Dreadnaught battle, the lingering damage C'baoth had inflicted, the freshly heeled gash earned from swinging out of the Corona House windows. She doubted that Dran's bitty scar compared with the 15 centimeter vibro knife slash down her right flank earned in a bar fight. She was, for a while, diverted by speculation on where Skywalker's scars could be found.

Luke was trying to explain to the thoroughly muddled Mihella that he had lived on Coruscant, that it was indeed a real place and not some exotic dessert, that it was the seat of the galactic government and not at all like what was depicted in the Tales of the Jedi series. It was with considerable relief when Mara interjected, _"Stimulating conversation, Skywalker? You can bring that extra drink over any time." _

Mara tried not to laugh audibly at the chagrin in his voice, _"She already drank it. Mihella thinks I'm the most wonderful, fascinating person she's ever met. She's told me several times already." _

_"I guess she doesn't know you as well as I do." _

Luke overheard Mara issuing a stern reprimand to Dran to keep his hands to himself. _"Now, Mara, what did you expect from such a youngster?"_

He could hear the exasperation, even in his mind, _"Jedi I expected someone whose brain is in his head, rather than..." _

_"Now Mara, don't be crude." _

_"If he asks me one more time to go and look at star lines, he'll see stars all right, but no lines." _

"You may be ahead of me then. Mihella has only asked me three, no, just asked again, four times."

After administering another hard shove at Dran, she asked,_ "Hey Skywalker, if you uh, want to make some arrangements . . ." _

She heard a very firm voice say, _"No." _

_"You sure?" _

_"Positive. Don't you know the Jedi Code, only dinner and a holovid on the first date?" _

She was laughing so hard she missed at first the familiar Force sense sweep the room. She heard Luke say, _"Did you get that?" _

Mara looked around, and then waved at Yur, directing him to where Luke was. "Excuse me Dran, I have some business to attend to with my co-pilot. Would you be a sweetie, have a drink or two until I'm done and just watch over Mihella for me?"

She heard Luke making similar noises to Mihella, and direct the girl to Dran. Mara was immensely relieved that with both Luke and Yur in the bar, she had been able to duck Dran's clumsy attempt at a kiss and bit too familiar caress. The latter, she had threatened to remedy by cutting his hand off. She wished that Dran would have a conversation with Luke - who would be sure to impress upon the fly boy that such threats should be taken seriously.

She joined them at the booth, giving Yur a kiss on both cheeks, and sliding in next to Luke. "Yur, can I get you something?"

"Thank you Inta, but no. I did not mean to interrupt your evening." Mara knew Luke felt as uncomfortable as she - both of them, and for the same irrational reasons, would have preferred that Yur not have observed Mihella or Dran.

Luke interrupted hastily and with genuine feeling, "No Yur, we were hoping you would come."

"Unfortunately my friends, I have nothing to report to you." Even above the din of the bar, Yur dropped his voice conspiratorially. "It is, as I told you before, highly unlikely that Borkin is a guest, willing or no, in any Imperial establishment in Tirgu which employs Verratans."

Luke asked, "Do most of the Imperial homes and businesses hire locals?"

Mara answered, "Virtually all of them, right Yur?"

"I believe so Inta. Remember also that it may not be necessary for many Verratans to actually see Mr. Borkin to comprehend whether he is in fact near."

Mara and Luke agreed, an imprisoned man would be likely to broadcast distress strongly enough for even untrained Force sensitives in the vicinity to detect.

Yur continued, "I believe that if your friend is still alive and in Tirgu, he is likely carefully shielded from outsiders." They both sensed Yur's own cautious scanning of the cantina, before he added, "Also, a man came to the Port today Mara. I did not know or recognize him. He was very interested in you, in your ship, your cargo, and" his eyes flickered toward Luke, "your co-pilot."

"Did he board me?"

"No. But he did inspect your stowed cargo. I believe he was satisfied that it was what in fact it is. You are well known here. Nevertheless, it was an unusual visit."

Luke said slowly, "Yur, can you tell us anything special about this man?"

Yur smiled secretly, whimsically. "Regrettably Luke, I cannot. He was a confident, older man, very, I believe the word you use is 'controlled.' Perhaps you understand why I cannot offer more?" Yur stood, easing his way carefully out of the booth, "I must go now, and leave the pleasures of youth to those who may enjoy them more than I. Dona awaits me, and she would be concerned if I tarried in such company." He afforded them a jocular wink, "Mara, Luke, good evening. I am sure we will meet again tomorrow," and left them.

Mara watched him go. "Just another piece of bad news."

"Do you think Borkin might be at Bacchanalia?"

Mara grimaced with an abrupt shake. "Your guess is as good as mine. We'll have to check it out. These people are serious, I don't know why they would keep him alive or, if alive in Tirgu."

Luke agreed with her assessment, and added, "I sure don't like the idea of someone taking such an interest in us."

"I don't either. But we haven't sensed any pursuit or surveillance." Mara glanced about the bar. "And as Yur said, I'm known here. Even if whoever was checking us out knows where my loyalties really lie, the fact is, I'm here on legitimate trading business and have been doing it for years."

Luke pointed out the obvious he knew Mara had already realized, "That cover would be gone in an instant if they figured out who your co-pilot really is."

"Well, no levitating for you then, 'Luke.'"

"I'll try to remember, Captain."

Mara scrambled out of the booth, "Let's see how are friends are getting along."

They returned to the party; Dran and Mihella were perhaps a mite embarrassed - Dran had taken Mara's advice to heart and was thoroughly enmeshed with Mihella, she draped about him like a piece of clingy clothing. To the minds of that couple, Luke and Mara were the definite interlopers. Dran, Mihella, and their other young friends had begun ordering glasses of ale and lining them in rows on the bar.

"Mara, is that the start of what I think it is?"

She nodded with a grin, "Looks like ale races to me."

Luke mused, "I wonder if I remember how to play."

"Well, allow me to refresh your long term recall. Two teams, and the team who finish the row of ale first wins." Silently she added, "_Imagine how well this would work with Jedi control - just open up that throat and pour it down."_

Dran blurted out, "Hey, you old folks think you're up for an ale relay?"

The bar became quite silent and collectively held its breath as Mara and Luke simultaneously swung around to stare down the youngster. No one in the bar was under any misapprehension - Dran had just provoked two very dangerous people. Mara caught Luke's eye and he gave her a humorous wink, both thinking the same thing. She held up a credit transfer card, "My co-pilot and I always love a challenge."

She threw the card down on the bar, as Luke said "Ladies, gentlemen, the Captain and I will take you all on. Pick your relay team, we'll even give you a . . ." he paused and Mara injected, "two man head start."

It was never even a contest. Although several of the men were very skilled, they were simply no match for the Jade Team- Luke and Mara able to down glasses one after another in blindingly quick and coherent succession. It was a new and very successful Force application neither had tried before. After four runs with different combinations of six men teams on the other side, Luke graciously extended their handicap to three. After another few runs, Luke and Mara begged off, leaving the youngsters to race themselves into a stupor. Ten or more races later, the bartender ordered last call.

Luke and Mara were very pleased with their night's work - bodies littered the floor and all without drawing a weapon. The bartender was so excited he gave them a glass of tolinka for the road. Mihella had fallen asleep across a table, and Dran was trying without much success to rouse his friend. He kept poking the sagging blonde, "Miha, Miha, wake up, gotta take ya home."

It was a doleful sight. In response to Luke's nonverbal query, Mara reluctantly agreed. "You're right. This carnage is partially our fault. You get him, I'll take the sleeping beauty."

Luke went over to the despondent man, "Come on Dran, we're going home."

Mara gulped down the rest of her drink and made her way to Mihella. After studying the situation for a moment, she righted the limp, unconscious girl, and slung Mihella over her shoulder. Stooped with her load, Mara wove her way through the bodies and upturned tables and trudged out of the bar. Luke was right behind her, guiding the only slightly more coherent Dran up the steps.

Outside, Dran gestured wildly, "There, that's it," pointing in the direction of a hulking speeder.

Luke gasped, "Head over there Mara."

Outside, Mara found the easiest way to maneuver the blonde was to drag her, and although sorely tempted to do so by the legs, opted for lugging Mihella by the arms across the road toward the open speeder.

Dran blurted, "Miha, don't leave me."

"Don't worry Dran," Luke reassured the drunken pilot, "she's coming with you."

Mara reached the speeder, and with a final heave, shoved Mihella head first into the back seat, the woman's feet sticking ludicrously into the air like a slaughtered animal. She turned back to help Luke with the reeling, babbling would-be pilot. "Gotta take Miha home," were Dran's last words before stumbling, slipping through Luke's arms, and collapsing with a heavy thud onto the ground. Mara and Luke each took one arm and hauled him to the speeder. Unceremoniously, they dumped Dran next to his comatose friend.

Luke climbed into the driver's side of the speeder, Mara joined him sitting heavily on the passenger side. "That's the last time we ever challenge anyone to a drinking game."

Luke glanced over his shoulder at the blissfully sleeping couple in the back seat. "Think they'll be okay back there?"

Mara stretched, trying to relieve the cramp in her arm from carrying the heavy Mihella. "I suppose. We should probably stick around a little while. Make sure they are both really out. Neither of them should try to drive this thing."

"So Mara, do all your evenings out end this way?"

"You mean drunk, in the back seat of a speeder, with a third rate pilot from a backwater planet?"

"A little testy aren't we?" he wondered. "I was just joking."

Mara was indeed in a sour mood, and the ache in her neck and left shoulder wasn't helping. She began rubbing them with her right hand, attempting more casually, "Did you have fun?"

Luke was not completely truthful, "Sure. What about you, did you have fun?"

Mara lied too, "Sure, up until this last bit. Your would-be girlfriend weighs a lot."

Luke looked back at the sleeping woman, "She's nice, but prettier when she's awake." At Mara's poorly concealed flash of annoyance, he added, "Too bad she's dumb as a rock."

Mara gave a humph of laughter and slumped over the console. She muttered, "On my last trip here, I thought Dran was very attractive. He seemed pathetic tonight."

Seeing her still rubbing her arm, Luke reached over. "Here, let me give a try," and buried his fingers into the firm muscle of her shoulder.

Mara grunted softly, finally admitting, "I thought it would be fun to see him, but I just didn't have the good time I thought I would." As he continued working her shoulder, Mara felt the tension and her irritable mood drain, and thought unguardedly, that her past and future co-pilots were not measuring up very well against Skywalker.

"Maybe your standards have changed," Luke observed softly.

At his words, Mara stiffened, pulling away, saying abruptly, "Thanks, feels better now." She slid further across the seat, wondering why she kept inviting these confrontations, cursing the circumstance that now put her with Skywalker in an open, battered speeder, on a deserted, dark street, in the middle of the night with a couple of drunks passed out in the back.

His amused response to her brusque withdrawal rankled and the air of condescension she detected aggravated her further. "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about something Dona said last night."

Mara unwisely took the bait. "What'd she say?"

"That she didn't understand what was between us."

His unsubtle probe provoked a reaction, albeit an aggressive one. Luke had just provided Mara with the excuse she had needed to vent her ill temper, "Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugged, "You asked. I just thought it was a perceptive comment."

She knew exactly why he had made the not-so-ambiguous observation, and had no intention of letting him slither out of it. "Try again, Skywalker. You were just hoping for some kind of weird confession from me weren't you?"

"No, of course not." The stammering indicated otherwise. "I just thought it was interesting, that's all."

"Like hell you do." Mara was furious, at him for so easily reading her, and at herself for so carelessly giving him something to read. "You're just playing games again. I know exactly what's between us, you're the one who can't keep it straight."

"I suggest you get a tighter rein on your thoughts before trying to lecture me. Nothing that's gone on between us since we left Yavin entitles you to claim any high ground."

"You keep forgetting why I went to Yavin in the first place."

"I recall something about you needing a competent pilot."

"It's amazing that someone your age has never learned more about adult behavior," Mara exploded. "If you don't recognize a face saving gesture, I'll certainly not bother with one again. Next time I'll leave you to rot, find my own co-pilot, and spare myself the aggravation, the kind of arrogance, I'm getting from you."

"You just don't like the fact that you can't dominate me the way you do all those grateful boys you've rescued from whatever rock they're on. Don't expect me to stay in the right place in your ordered existence. I'm not doing anything to suit you."

Mara coiled, then struck with venom. "Your capacity for self-delusion is astounding. Let me enlighten you, since you obviously don't have a clue. You're attracted to me but you can't let go of that damn control for a minute. So you just whine and agonize, and keep toying with me, and never give me the satisfaction of slapping you really hard and ..."

"And what?" His laugh was laced with scorn. "You slapping someone who comes onto you? Right, whose the deluded one. I'm probably the only pilot between here and Coruscant that you haven't slept with."

"Careful, Skywalker, that sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me."

"I'm not interested in used goods, Master Trader."

With the last exchange of profoundly hurtful insults, their control gave way - heat, anger and frustration burst out, the Dark Side sweeping them into a spiteful, violent torrent. As Mara swung her arm back to deliver a raking blow across his face, Luke grabbed her wrist, fully prepared to snap it. A loud snore from the back seat intervened.

Luke dropped her hand as if it scalded him, turning away. Eyes smarting, blood singing in her ears, Mara fought for and finally regained her control. She groaned, burying her head in her hands, "Oh gods, Luke, I'm sorry."

He did not look at her, his eyes fixed on the desolate street. When at last Luke spoke, his voice quavered, rasping and despairing. "Mara, I don't even think the things about other people that I somehow say to you."

Mara shrank into the corner of the narrow seat, pulling herself into an impervious, contained ball. "I don't exactly bring out the best in you."

Luke slid over to her, "That's not it." She winced as he brought an arm around her rigid body, "It's both of us. No one else could do or say what we do and say to each other, or hurt us the way we hurt one another."

At those fearful words, Mara yanked free, denying the import of his statement, "I don't want that kind of power."

As Luke put a hand on her arm again, she recoiled from the touch, from his words. "It's too late, you..."

"No, don't say it, I'm telling you, I don't want it ..."

"Mara," he began more firmly, "why don't you want to see this?"

"No!" Shrugging him off, disavowing the power they had over one another, a power she had never sought and did not want, Mara leveled her one remaining weapon, severing her Force link to Luke.

The stricken look Mara saw as her light winked out within him compounded her panic. Trapped in the cramped confines, she scrambled, desperate for an escape.

But Luke would not, could not, let her go. He grasped her, pinning her into the corner with one hand, stroking her face with other. "I know why you're doing this. After what Palpatine did to you, I know this is the last thing you would have ever looked for."

He reached to her again, now in the Force. "I'm sorry, Mara. I never intended it either. But don't shut me out now."

She tensed, feral, caged, straining against him. Mara would flee, or fight before she could allow this to happen.

"Don't run, please."

She couldn't bear it. She couldn't stand to hear the plea, couldn't stand knowing that she could hurt him, that he could hurt her, or that either of them might regret doing so.

"Stay." With the whisper, she felt Luke open to her. She wavered, poised at the edge of flight. He caressed her again, "Please."

With a strangled, muffled cry, Mara relented, burying her head in his shoulder, seeking through the Force an awareness as strong and as wounded as her own.

Heads bent, arms softly draped, the Force knit them in a consoling, gentle embrace. With the shared empathy Luke admitted what he foolishly had only just realized, "Sometimes, maybe I am jealous."

"At this rate, you have nothing to worry about, Jedi."

He drew her fierce, lithe body closer. "Neither do you." Luke was learning that the softness and pliant complacency of someone like Mihella was a poor substitute for the allure of Mara's power, her prowling shape, and piercing intelligence. Twined with her mind and body, his craving for a release from the burdens of his Mastery, the ache to possess her restless energy, threatened to engulf him, overwhelming his faltering grasp of peaceful restraint.

Still linked, Mara felt the turmoil, saw in troubled eyes the struggle beneath the surface. She sensed the subtle change in Luke, and she realized in herself. She felt the introduction of a new element in their bond, saw suddenly another power she had over him, and he over her. Mara hesitated for a heartbeat, and then reached down deeper into the Force, finding and strengthening his focus and self-control, and her own.

Calm washed over them. Luke gently pushed her out of his awareness, even as she withdrew. He murmured, "You can't cross that line either, can you?"

She sighed deeply, contented with the compromise. "No, and I won't try to force you to if I can't." Mara twisted her head up to catch his eye, "It's an agreement I can live with."

Luke did not answer right away, but finally sighed his assent, "Me too." He paused, winding a loose strand of red hair around a finger, thinking that his thoughts on the subject changed almost on the hour, and sometimes were not even that consistent.

Another snore, this one apparently from Mihella drifted by. Mara glanced over at the heaps in the back seat, "I should have killed you while I had the chance; would have saved me a lot of trouble."

"What, and miss all this fun?"

Amid a chorus of snores, Mara responded, "You have strange notions of fun Skywalker. It's the middle of the night, we're in a derelict speeder, have a drunken pair in the back seat, a couple of blasters, and two light sabers. Fun is not the word that leaps to mind."

Luke cupped a hand under her chin, "Don't forget the droid, adjoining hotel rooms, a bottle and a half of liquid lightening and enough explosives to take out a block or two."

Mara slid one arm around his neck, saying as she did so, "Under the circumstances, I think there's only one thing to do then, don't you?"

He approached close enough to whisper, "Break some more laws?"

Her delighted laughter was almost enough to make him instantly reconsider their agreement of only moments before. She confided, "Fortune has put a speeder at our disposal. I had been worried we'd need to steal one, but I'm sure Dran wouldn't mind lending his. But just to be sure, I'll ask. Dran, do you mind if we borrow your speeder for a little illegal activity?" A thunderous snore from the back seat answered. "See? Thank you so much Dran, I knew you wouldn't mind."

Mara pulled Luke's head down nearer to her own, a seductively dangerous edge in her voice, "I'm thirsty and in the mood for a bottle of wine or three. Do you think the Bacchanalia warehouse might have some?"

"So we add vehicle theft, public drunkenness, and carrying concealed incendiary devices to breaking and entering and theft?"

"I think that about covers it. Having followed the money, I now want to follow the wine."

ooOOoo

In a repeat of the previous night, they returned first to the hotel for the party kit, and opted to leave Artoo behind. Data was not object for this excursion. As before, everything was quiet and deserted; Luke piloting, Dran and Mihella still snoring away serenely, they headed out of town as quickly and quietly as the poorly serviced speeder permitted. Within a kilometer of the hulking Bacchanalia warehouse Luke parked the speeder in a depression behind a low hill, leaving Dran and Mihella sleeping in the back seat. He and Mara intended to approach the facility on foot.

A hundred meters from the security fence perimeter they silently sank down into the damp grass on a hill which provided a good vista of most of the compound. A few of the buildings in the complex were lit; most were reassuringly dark and silent. Luke reached out for a tentative sense of the place, telling Mara, "I think there are about 10 to 15 people inside, most concentrated there." He pointed to a large, windowed, lit building.

Mara had been scanning the fence, scoping the trees and the grounds for motion sensors and cameras. A breeze stirred the trees overhead, and she saw a leaf blow gently into the fence and pop with a slight sizzle. "Electrified fence of some sort. I don't sense any other surveillance equipment."

"So, what are our objectives, apart from satisfying your thirst?"

Mara ran through the options. "Find out if Borkin is there. Find out what they are smuggling."

"I don't get a sense of anything particularly ominous in there, do you?"

"No. We'll check again when we get in closer, but even prisoners have to sleep. Maybe we can find a terminal, ask the computer where we deliver prisoner meals."

Luke scanned the facility spread out before them. "So if I were a wine merchant, where would I put the goods I'm smuggling?" He finished as Mara said silently, "Near the landing pads."

"There, those flood lights - no ships but looks like a landing pad to me."

"Yep. See those ramps and loaders - I bet that's their storage and shipping area. What do you think?"

In response Mara inched on her stomach back down the hill. "Let's walk around, closer to that area."

From that side, a careful closer inspection revealed a tightly sealed, dark low building, ramps and lifts descending to the landing pad. They slunk to within 30 meters of the building, only the security fence and an expanse of grass, walkways and an unlit loading dock separating them from a door to the building. A sweep of the area confirmed that all was peacefully quiet - the little activity centered in the apparent administrative building on the other side of the complex.

With the Force, Mara directed another leaf toward the fence; they heard the same sizzle as it contacted the current. The fence was probably 3 meters high - too tall to just jump, even with Force enhanced muscles. "Any ideas, Skywalker? I suppose we could try the front door?" Her tone indicated how little she liked that possibility.

Luke was looking at the tree that partially shielded them, "I think an old fashioned method would work here as well. It's a good thing Bacchanalia hasn't been concerned with intense scrutiny of its activities. How are you at tree climbing?"

Mara looked up, noting that some of the tree's branches hung over the fence, into the compound. She reached into the party kit, producing a skein of rope. "We might need this to get out again."

Luke nodded, "I did a lot of climbing when I was training - I make the juniors do it on Yavin. I bet they'd love to see me in a tree now."

"Why don't I go first - I weigh less, and if something goes wrong, you can probably get me out of there faster." Luke stood, cupping a hand to give Mara a boost up the tree. She clambered up, and then stopped to consider the branching routes. Luke whispered in her mind, "Try the second one up, it looks about as sturdy, but extends further in." She climbed up one more branch, then began sliding across, stopping to loop and tie the rope around the sturdy branch. She left it coiled - no need to run the risk of alerting someone with a dangling rope, and if they needed it, it would be possible to release it through the Force.

Mara took a firm hold of the branch, and then dropped, hanging for a moment, before landing with a gentle thud and roll onto the grass on the other side. It was easy, and Skywalker was right behind her.

Luke caught up with her at the door to the building. Mara was staring at the multiple numbered and lettered buttons on the locking mechanism. "Doesn't look like a transfer card will work this time."

She put her hand over the lock and shut her eyes, "Just give me a minute, it's a sequence lock, and I think there may be enough residue for the lock to remember its own code."

Garbled though her explanation was, Luke thought he understood what she meant. Mara paused, and then punched a sequence - the lock light turned from red to green, and the door slid open.

They slipped through the door, into the dark storeroom. But for the dozens of crates and cartons, it was empty and silent. Moving quickly along the wall, Mara made for the end of room, "I've got to know what's in these things."

Luke hung back, closer to the door, and began prying the lid off one good sized crate. "These are big enough to hold almost anything." Mara was still working her box, as Luke popped his open, and began rummaging through the packing material. Wine bottles were carefully nestled in the first layer, and the second, and the third. He pushed deeper into the box, "Mara, there's nothing here, it's just wine."

With its profits, Bacchanalia had been buying from every major arms dealer for months - Luke was certain evidence of the smuggling had to be somewhere. He moved to another partially opened carton, and found the same thing, bottles of wine. He quickly tried a third, finding the same. After all of this, it seemed ludicrous, impossible to him that Bacchanalia was really after all, just another wine merchant. "Maybe there's a different storehouse, or maybe they're getting goods off planet somewhere . . ."

He started, feeling an intense reaction from Mara, shock, amazement, and most of all, amusement. "What is it, what did you find? All I've got is wine."

She was sitting on the floor, with two bottles in her lap, studying them. He felt as much as saw the bemused expression spreading across her face, "Those clever bastards."

"What's in your box? All I've found were wine bottles. Is there something special in the bottle?"

Mara shook her head, laughing softly, and then so hard and quietly she could barely speak. She finally gasped, "Look at the labels, Skywalker. It's not what's in the bottle, it's what's on the label."

Luke delved into one of the cartons and pulled out a bottle, apparently of red wine, although difficult to determine in the dim light. "It says its vintage from, ah, 25 years ago, a muscanion, from a vineyard in Adonveer. That was on Alderaan wasn't it?" He walked over to her, and she was shaking with laughter. "What is it?"

Mara wiped her eyes as he joined her on the dusty floor.

"Mine are from Alderaan too. They are probably all from Alderaan."

"So? What's all this Alderaani wine doing here? Why's that funny?"

She jostled him roughly with an elbow. "Skywalker, recall your lessons on supply and demand. Alderaani vineyards used to produce some of the finest wines in the galaxy. A certain Death Star 20 years ago ended that. There's no supply, it's gone, no one can make anymore. Do you have any idea what the going rate is for a case of Alderaani muscanion, or cavernol, any vintage, any year?"

He still didn't understand. "A lot I should think?"

"It's incalculable. I've only seen the rare bottle or two in 10 years of trading and those bottles went for oh, I don't know, upwards of 30,000 credits. Maybe more. A case really could make a sizeable down payment on a Star Destroyer, pay the salaries of a battalion of troops for a year, buy all that blast armor."

"But where could all of this have come from? There are cases and cases of it. They've been shipping for months."

Mara laughed again, "Recall the sucker list, Skywalker." She patted his cheek with a dirty hand. "You're too honest. There's not this much Alderaani wine left in the entire galaxy. It's Verratan wine, with Alderaani labels. It's a fraud, a very clever fraud, being perpetrated by rich Imperials, on other rich Imperials who would love nothing more than drinking to a bygone era with a glass from an obliterated rebel stronghold."

They sat together, in the dust, amid packing crates and stuffing, in the dark, mulling the implications of what they had learned that day. "Mara, what do you need to build an Empire?"

"A navy."

"And?"

"A commander to lead it."

"And?"

She gestured about the room, "Credits to buy it."

Luke rummaged in his pockets, "I think a toast is in order." He produced a screw, and with considerably more expertise than two weeks previously, began opening one of the bottles.

Mara brushed hair out of her eyes, leaving a grimy mark on her forehead. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

He shrugged, and slid the cork out, "Probably not."

She grinned and handed him another bottle, "One for each of us."

"Of course." Luke opened the other bottle, and returned it to Mara.

They clinked bottles, Mara offering a toast, "Sherrifee, to where the money led."

"No cazut i shtea. To floating a navy on a sea of wine."

* * *

To follow, Chapter 9, Just Among Friends

Luke and Mara go on a date, with predictable results. Don't all dinner and dancing dates end up in a trash dumpster after a run in with old friends?

"Being a Jedi Master must count for something besides the ability to levitate really big rocks."

I do hope you will drop me a line if you are reading and enjoying the story! It's so old, but I love hearing from people again. Thanks so much!


	9. Just Among Friends

**CHAPTER 9**  
**_JUST AMONG FRIENDS_**

Luke and Mara go on a date, with predictable results. Don't all dinner and dancing dates end up in a trash dumpster after a run in with old friends?

"Being a Jedi Master must count for something besides the ability to levitate really big rocks."

* * *

With the toast, Luke cautiously sipped the wine, tasting it carefully for any indication that it was worth more than he had ever had or earned in his life, and hoping to apply some of Mara's instruction. "This is very dry, it seems herbal, rather fruity, does that make sense?"

"Very good Jedi. Mine I think is lighter than yours is, fruitier as you say, probably younger. There are some hints of spice in the bouquet, it's not bad; better than most of what we have had, but nothing like that bottle we had the last night on the ship."

Luke shook his head in wonder. "I guess I have a hard time believing that anyone could be this stupid."

"Actually, that's the part that surprises me the least. You'd be amazed at the scams out there: forged art work of great masters, risk free investments promising returns thousands of times over going rates, lake front properties on desert worlds. All you need is a slick package and a good story."

"I suppose the buyers think they are getting this rare find, scrounging around for a bottle, maybe even a case." Luke gestured at the crates about them. "They haven't seen all of this."

Mara decided she actually quite liked the bottle she was drinking. "That's part of it. There is a combination of factors at work here. It's a very probable story: the Emperor stashing all this rebel wine in a place where his loyal retainers could enjoy it. And who remembers what Alderaani wine really tasted like at this point, to say nothing of actually finding a genuine bottle to make a true comparison. There would be no way to confirm what you had actually bought." She paused, grinning. "And if you did find a bottle to make the comparison, it might very well be just another bottle of Verratan wine."

Recalling something from the previous evening, Luke offered, "Rodica had said that the Empire had brought vines here from all over the galaxy. They may even be using Alderaani vines. And I suppose they are also playing off a very old scam; if you pay that much for something, it must be good."

The last observation was greeted with Mara's snort of disgust. "People like that should lose every credit they have."

He had to agree. "If it tasted off, I suppose someone would prefer to think it's just a problem with the bottle, age or something, rather than that they had just been cheated. I have this image of a couple of Verratan Imps smacking their lips with one of their sucker customers, extolling the virtues of a bottle that everyone thinks should be good because it has an Alderaani label, and because they paid this huge sum for it, rather than actually asking themselves if it is good."

"If it wasn't for the fact that the Verratans are using the profits to arm themselves, I'd say, just leave them to it. These people deserve what they get." Something bothered her though. "Don't you think it's a bad idea to be cheating the same people who you want supporting your new Empire?"

"We don't really know the intricacies involved here. The sucker customers really don't understand the magnitude of the fraud. Everyone no doubt wants to keep it all very quiet- you of course don't want to end up in a bidding war with someone for a rare bottle of Alderaani wine."

"The Imps here are probably also cheating people in the Core they've known for years. I wouldn't think this scam will last very long; eventually the customers will want to start sharing their supposed rare wine finds, and will discover that all of their friends have the same bottle. That's a party I'd love to be at."

As another even more twisted scheme occurred to Luke, he realized that all this time with Mara was definitely having an effect. "Or maybe the Verratans will be the ones to uncover the scam, set someone up like Vitz to take the fall, claim righteous indignation, bemoan the losses with their friends, and that will be the end of it."

Mara again nodded in approval. "Your devious mind is being wasted on Jedi philosophy. If that's the plan, it might explain why the Verratans are keeping all their extra credits here rather than taking them off world; if they started throwing all this new found wealth around, their sucker friends might get suspicious."

Luke was tracing patterns in the dusty floor. "There is something else we don't know, as well. Did you recognize any military names among the Bacchanalia owners?"

"No."

"Neither did I. So whose leading the troops, making the purchasing decisions?"

Mara ran through the disquieting list in her head, there were quite a few possibilities. "We haven't heard from some of our old friends for several years. It could be any of them."

"You know Mara, our old friends have never been very sociable, I bet that they would be very unhappy if we crashed their party, don't you think?" Luke looked up at her with a barely reckless crooked grin.

Mara was assaulted with a surge of conflicting emotion; if he was doing this deliberately, she'd kill him. She responded tightly, "They know me, know my ship."

Luke added, "And know it was no coincidence that you had a copilot named Luke."

She brutally smothered the wave. "I don't think we should dawdle here then, do you?"

Luke shrugged, a nonchalant gesture at odds with the lightly suppressed excitement she felt and heard. Damn him, Mara thought they had resolved this, that she had resolved this.

He continued, seemingly not noticing Mara's quiet little battle, "We need to be alert, but I wasn't thinking that we'd call up the ship quite yet. If someone was really concerned, we would have found out almost as soon as we landed." He took another pull on the bottle. "Another day or two won't matter. Sure it's riskier, but we need to try to find Borkin, and we might find out who is buying for Bacchanalia, who is in charge of all that nice new hardware. We can't get that information from Coruscant, not with what NRI has done here."

Mara relaxed slightly, "I did come here for business, I have to sell the rest of my cargo tomorrow."

"Sure, and we still have to go on our date."

Mara almost dropped her bottle. "I thought we had an agreement."

"We do. But the date has nothing to do with the agreement. The purpose, as I recall, was to prove to you that I'm fun, so the next time you drop into Yavin, you'll show me the nightlife." The grin that accompanied the statement indicated just how much he was enjoying trapping her this time.

Mara tried squirming her way out of it, she was not prepared to cope with a "date" with Luke. "I've got a better idea. How about on those lonely hearts ads you post, I just add a testimonial: Master Trader Jade hereby attests that Jedi Master Skywalker is fun. That would do it, wouldn't it?"

Luke was adamant. "Nope."

"A recommendation then. I'll let your would be girlfriends contact me, I'll even pay for the holo call, and I can tell them in person that you're not boring all the time, and occasionally, might even be tolerable."

"And this is supposed to make me change my mind?"

"I'll be nice."

Every Jedi Master should have a Mara to bait. "Sure, I've seen your behavior today around respectable women. I don't want you anywhere near my prospects."

She stuck a lip out. "I told you before I don't like respectable women. And the ones we've seen today only reaffirms that opinion; they are so 'respectable' they make even you seem exciting."

"That settles it. We are going out tomorrow night, or well I guess tonight, and we will have fun. Besides, we have to make some use of all that dancing practice."

"I can hardly wait." Mara's voice was flat with dread.

Luke began rummaging for the corks. "Although it is risky to stick around a few more days, I don't see why we should be inviting trouble by dawdling here."

Mara was already on her feet. They cleared the evidence of their explorations, carefully repacking and sealing the crates. Searching the warehouse, they could not find a computer terminal that might help them determine if Borkin was in permanent residence.

They squatted down in the dim, dusty warehouse anteroom and plotted. Luke had decided that they would probably have to risk a Force probe and Mara reluctantly agreed. "But we aren't going to try to get him out now if he's here, are we?"

Luke took inventory of the party kit, before shaking his head. "I don't think so, we'd have to be prepared to leave, we'd have to get the ship, Artoo, Kyle."

"And net clearance."

Just another complication. "So where do you want to try this, outside, where we were before?"

Mara tried wiping the grime off her hands, succeeding only in leaving streaks on her flight suit. "If we can't reach anything from there, we can always climb another tree."

Luke went first, Mara remaining in the shadows of the building. He brought the rope down, climbed up, and then slid across the branch back to the other side. Mara was impressed in spite of herself. She would have never thought a Jedi Master to be so adept in a tree. She heard his soft, smug voice in her head, "You should have seen where I did my training." Damn him again.

Mara followed quickly, tossing the kit over the fence, Luke catching it in a Force grasp. She shinnied up the rope, thinking that such activity wrecked not only finger nails, but hands as well. What color polish went with hemp, dirt, bruises, scrapes and grass stains, she wondered?

Pulling herself onto the branch, she caught a glint in the dark on the far end of the landing pad. "Hey Skywalker, see that?"

Mara projected into his mind what she saw from the vantage of the tree limb and heard him say after a moment, "It's a ship of some kind, too small to be a freighter, all locked down though."

Mara retrieved the rope and traversed the branch, finally falling to the ground next to him. "Let's get closer to that big building," Luke said. "That's where I felt most of the people before."

They circled back to where they had started, Luke briefly seeking out the speeder's sleeping occupants. Dran and Mihella remained blissfully unconscious.

They hunkered down on a rise not far from the tall, partially lit building and considered the options. "What do you think the odds are that anyone in there is Force sensitive?" Luke asked.

Trying to divine the building's occupants without the Force was impossible. "If this were a typical Verratan establishment, I'd say pretty good. But as Yur said, if Borkin's a prisoner, they'd be really careful to keep any natives away."

"If someone is a Force user, they'll recognize a probe."

Mara could not come up with any particularly helpful alternative. "Well, then we'd better be really careful. Why don't you try to reach them, I'll see what I can do to boost your sensitivity?"

Luke shut his eyes and cautiously, surreptitiously reach out to the others in the near building. Lying next to him on the grass, Mara rested a hand on his shoulder, as before flowing into, then with him, out in a sweep of the area. More accustomed to the heightened awareness between them, he thought dimly that the connection between them had become, at least for him, both easier to maintain, and stronger with practice. He heard a mocking voice say, "Knock, knock, Mr. Borkin? Is anyone home?" Ever the comedian.

Luke immediately found three women and nine men all awake, in the building and seemingly calm, preoccupied and ignorant of their gentle search.

Mara said "The night shift," and he thought she was right. Reaching further and more assertively, they found three sleeping minds, Luke thought one woman and two men.

"What do you think," Luke asked. "Which one?"

Thought to thought they conferred, deciding on one man for no reason other than that the Force seemed to guide them there. Luke gently reached that mind, finding restless, light sleep, fear, pain. He was so deeply in a rapport with that other mind he was certain was Borkin, he felt the spasmodic clutch biting into his shoulder before comprehending the reason for Mara's intense reflexive reaction.

She hissed, "Pull out, get out, something's not right."

They impact hit them at the same moment, a faint unpleasant odor in the air, a cold, clammy wind that cut through clothing to the bone, hungry for their warmth in the Force. Something fearful, clawing and mean was searching for them.

Mara's Force sense snapped back as if she had been stung, he slamming a barrier down to ward off the cold hunter. Thinking as one mind, they swiftly and silently retreated to the speeder, alert for the alarm that never came. Having just overstayed their welcome, it was time to go; any future rescue of Borkin could become far more complicated if his keepers knew that two trained Force users had just made a thorough reconnaissance of the facility.

They did not speak until nearly within the city proper, Luke coaxing the speeder to a jarring stop. Mara finally released the bone rattling shudder she had held. "What was that?"

Luke was still gripping the controls, knuckles white with tense control, "I have no idea. I've never felt it before, you haven't either?"

"No. One of those men was Borkin, but he wasn't responsible for that, was he?"

Luke forced himself to replay the feeling. "It wasn't Borkin. I thought it was a strong Dark Side power. Now, I'm not so sure. You seemed more sensitive to it than I was."

"I think I am." Mara was pale and bloodless, as close to frightened as a nerveless person ever could be. She finished with certainty, "That cold feeling, it was the same as in your vision, I'm sure of that."

They said little more until after they dropped the speeder at the Spot. Leaving Dran and Mihella still happily comatose in the back, they returned to the hotel. It had been another long day and still longer night.

At the entrance to the hotel, Luke reflected on their luck. "Running into that presence was bad enough, I'm glad there wasn't anything else going on there tonight."

"Given all the shipments, I'm surprised there wasn't more activity. Maybe one of the ships had problems in the belt."

His response was partially cut off by the revolving door, "Mihella told me that all the pilots here just sit around hoping that a Bacchanalia ship goes down so that maybe they would hire local talent."

They started walking into the empty lobby, Mara saying through a yawn, "It does happen."

"Not so far."

She stopped so suddenly Luke ran into her. "What?"

"Uhh, sorry, why did you . . ."

"What did Mihella tell you?"

Luke was confused, "That Dran and others sit around hoping..."

"No," she interrupted impatiently, "I mean about the Bacchanalia ships."

"She said that no Bacchanalia ship had gone down. What is it?"

Seizing his arm, she repeated, "She told you no Bacchanalia ship had bitten it?"

Luke pried her fingers from his elbow, "Yes. What's wrong?"

Mara began cursing, "Come on, we've gotta get upstairs." She cursed at the slowness of the lift in coming down, cursed again at the slowness of the lift door opening, cursed again at the slowness of the lift door closing, and pushed the buttons so many times going up, Luke was profoundly grateful the same power source which ran the room's computer was not also responsible for the lift operations.

She pelted out of the lift and was already fumbling with the lock to her room when he caught up. Luke snagged the key card from her before she began kicking the door.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

She snapped, "We've got to get the manifests."

"What manifests?"

"The Tirgu Customs manifests of course. It's all there." Mara snarled, lunging for the key card.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, other than my stupidity in not seeing this earlier. Open the prijgin door. It's important."

"Has anyone ever told you, you swear like a stormtrooper?"

"I've taught them the best they ever knew. Now let me in, you mald'n rube, or I'll teach you a thing or two about pain you'll wish you never learned."

Sufficiently warned, Luke inserted the key card and she barged past him into the room. He found Mara on her hands and knees, scurrying through the neatly stacked printouts, still swearing. "Will you tell me at least what you are looking for?"

"I told you," she spit out. "The Tirgu manifest, the one we looked at yesterday."

"Oh," Luke said causally, picking up a printout from the desk, "this one?"

She threw herself at the printout, but Luke held it out of reach. "No Mara, sit down, and I'll sit next to you, and we will look at this together and you will tell me what this is all about."

She swore again, but settled back on the floor, leaning against the desk. As Luke sat next to her, Mara snatched the printout from him, and began scanning the Bacchanalia entries.

"Stang! I can't believe I didn't see this before. Bacchanalia has paid full customs taxes for every outgoing shipment."

"So?"

She dropped the printout, leaped to her feet, and began pacing, anxious, running dirty fingers through matted hair. "Under Tirgu Customs regulations, you pay the full tax only if your cargo and your ship actually make it through the belt undamaged. If either are, you can deduct the expense from the customs tax owed. In a fit of benevolence, they decided that it would be even more a disincentive to trade if you had to pay full customs taxes even when your ship or the goods were damaged during transit through the belt."

Luke still did not see the significance, "And?"

"Look at the taxes paid column, they've paid the full amount on every single shipment."

"Well you said yesterday that they'd been busy."

"Not just busy Luke, they've been lucky, impossibly lucky. It's what Mihella said that got me thinking." She paused to smack the bedpost in frustration, then resumed wearing a track through the carpet, "Bacchanalia has been shipping several times a week for over four months. According to that printout, not a single shipment has been damaged and every ship has made it through. I only do the run a few times a year, and even I've been banged a few times. And you can bet I'm a better pilot than the people they are hiring. I'm telling you, what they've done is impossible."

Luke had stayed seated, watching her pace, studying the manifest. Something began tugging at his awareness, a gnawing nagging sense of recognition, a picture forming of the only possible explanation.

Mara, feverish and frantic, stilled her restless stalking and knelt next to him, placing a hand at his shoulder to steady herself. "What do you need to build an Empire?"

Luke shook his head, "We've been over this..."

"No, tell me."

"It's what we said, you need a navy, you need a commander, you need credits."

"No," her eyes were bright, wild with excitement. "No" she repeated hoarsely. "To build an Empire, first, you need an Emperor. Who's their Emperor Luke? Think about what we know. We know the kind of people who are here; we know there have been two unexplained failures of the net; we know Bacchanalia has been shipping several times a week for months; we know they haven't lost or even damaged a ship or cargo in all that time; we've done the belt together, we know what it would take to get through it unscathed, week after week; we know someone is trying to arm an Empire; and Luke, we know what we felt at that warehouse tonight."

Luke knew only one person fit those facts, "Irek Ismaren."

Mara flung herself against the desk, exhausted from the effort and nodded.

Luke continued for her, in a grim voice. "It has to be Irek. He's using the Force to get the ships through. He brought the net down to get their attention, prove he could do it, for the same reasons he caused all those problems on Belsavis."

"Selfish, immature thug."

Dirty, tired, drained from the rollicking emotions and discoveries of the day, both felt ill equipped for this unwelcome, but really not entirely unexpected, wrinkle. Luke finally offered, "Even with Thrawn, I always felt that a true Imperial military was meant to serve someone. They need a force, a personality to unite behind. Amazing that the Verratans have managed to solve the two problems of the post Endor Empire: financing and an Emperor. "

Mara said bitterly, "Well they got more than they bargained for in Irek. I'm amazed he could muster any support after Belsavis."

"The Verratan Imps may not know about Belsavis any more than the Core Imps know about the wine, neither would be very eager to share the story," Luke mused. "It's rather clever, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, very, that sithspawn, sckaggy ..." Mara trailed off into a string of muted invective.

"That woman we sensed sleeping, do you think you recognize her now, do you think it might have been Roganda Ismaren?" Luke asked the question cautiously, measuring Mara's intense, angry burst at the mention of Irek's mother, the purported other hand of the Emperor and mother of his son and heir.

The anger ebbed, and after a long pause Mara said slowly, "Might be. I didn't recognize her, but if it's her, I probably would have if she had been awake."

If they were right, it was not only her past that she and Luke would be forced to confront before this trip was over. Mara probed Luke tentatively, "Do you think they might be trying for a more conventional approach, having had so little success with a superweapon?"

"After what Callista and I did, it wouldn't surprise me," was Luke's bleak response. "And they're doing it by exploiting Alderaan. This will be very hard for Leia."

"And for you."

A melancholy sigh escaped. "Yes."

Mara banged her head against the desk several times, finally verbalizing what was so striking to both of them. "There's a certain irony to all of this wouldn't you say?"

Luke pulled his legs up, resting his head on his knees. "At so many levels I wouldn't even know where to begin. All these different lives crossing here, in the backwater, a place no one has ever heard of, over bottles of wine."

Mara gave his back a playful slap, trying to lighten the creeping despondency. "I like the idea that we found it. Maybe it's an opportunity for exacting a little Jedi justice."

"It certainly makes our stay here a bit more dangerous. I was just starting to get bored." His humor was forced.

With a tremor, Mara deliberately recalled the feeling they shared outside the warehouse, both of them dispassionately dissecting it. "What do you think? Could that be him?"

Luke spoke into his knees, "I don't know. Neither of us has been in his presence before. So it makes sense that we wouldn't recognize him."

They both knew that was only part of the problem. "Do you think he recognized us?"

Luke pushed hair back that he was now certain would be greyer before they blasted out of here. "He wouldn't know us specifically. He may have thought he was dreaming, but he may have also identified two strong, trained presences in the Force, and realized they weren't of the Dark Side."

"I wonder why he didn't pursue us?"

His voice was bleak and weary. "That's one reason I think it is Irek. From what Leia had said, Irek's Force sense is strong, but very untrained and undisciplined. He's a coward. He may not have wanted to come after us, and may not have even known how."

"I think we would be able to take him down," she said tensely.

"I think we probably could, if we needed to, especially together, I hope we don't have to."

Mara voice was as a knife's edge, "You saw what he did to those people on Belsavis. He's worse than a murderer. He's thoroughly corrupt, evil."

Luke replied listlessly, "Ben said the same thing about Vader."

"Yes," she retorted sharply, "and I told you the same thing about C'Baoth."

"Mara," he began in a detestable patient tone.

She interrupted him, beginning in the same patronizing voice, "Luke, some of those people were my friends, he twisted them, destroyed their minds, he . . ."

He cut in severely, "Do I need to remind you what he did to me, to people I love?" Again, Luke displayed a problem with verb tense. "But Vader was no different. If someone can be turned away from the Dark Side, it's our duty to try."

"Speak for yourself Skywalker, I don't live by the same pacifist, idealistic code you do."

Mara was dirty, defiant, even now denying the inevitable, final commitment. Luke glanced at her side, where her lightsaber hung. Until now, he had never known her to wear it openly. He made a swift decision; it was time she acknowledged the consequences. He reached over, and unclipped the light saber from her belt, holding it out, speaking slowly, with an austere ritual intensity, "You've had this blade for ten years, have you ever dishonored it?"

Resentment flared. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Luke was uncompromising. "You know exactly what a lightsaber symbolizes, the principles it protects, I'm asking you, since you've borne this blade, have you ever done a dishonorable thing?"

Still she resisted, "I don't know what that means."

"Fine, since you're being so stubborn, I'll break it down for you, have you ever used your light saber in fear?" She glared at him, not wanting to answer, but refusing to yield to his unswerving interrogation. "Answer the question Mara Jade, or are you suddenly going to become afraid now?"

"No!" she bit out. "I've never used it out of fear."

He persisted relentlessly. "Even with all that anger you carry around, against all the people who have hurt you, have you ever used it in anger, or to harm another?"

"No."

"Have you ever used your gifts to the disadvantage of another?"

"What gifts? I . . ."

He gripped her shoulder, brandishing the handle with the other hand, "Stop evading, and answer, have you ever used the Force to the disadvantage of another?"

She was rebellious, almost shouting, "No."

The storm passed, the commanding grip at her shoulder becoming a soft squeeze. Luke gently opened her hand and set the light saber there, saying quietly, "You're proud of your other accomplishments, Mara Jade, be proud of this one."

Luke stood, wondering absurdly if a night with Mara would ever end earlier than the few hours before dawn. She was still sitting on the floor, staring at the blade. He offered a hand to help her rise, but Mara remained rooted. She finally spoke in an echo of their earlier confrontation, "I never wanted it, any of it, least of all this."

Luke continued holding his hand out to her. "You may not want it, you may hide it from the rest of the world as just another secret in your life, but I know the truth."

She looked up, her eyes dark and damp, "Why? Why now?"

Why did she always make things so difficult? He sighed and knelt next to her, placed his hands over hers around the blade handle. "Because there are some things you can't run from. Because you have taken enormous risks for people and principles that have never given you a thing in return. Because," staring into her fierce, strong face, Luke felt his own voice tighten with the emotion of the moment. "Because we have come so far. Because, I'm proud of you."

He felt again panic welling within her as she recognized that he had once more ensnared her in a trap she had so long sought to avoid. He released her and stood again, she could flee if she wanted, but they both knew there was nowhere to go. "It's like our link through the Force, it's too late to change. If you didn't want this, you should have left me to die in deep space, or killed me on Myrkr."

The panic dissipated, leaving only resignation and futile inevitability. "I wonder why I didn't do it then, or since, there have been so many opportunities."

"I don't know." And he really didn't, but answering her fatalism, Luke responded, "The Force may guide us, but it doesn't predetermine our fate. Dona reminded me of that, you said much the same thing yourself on the ship. I'll ask the same questions you asked me, why have you done any of the things you have, rescue Karrde, rescue me, rescue Leia, lead us to Wayland, fight the Triad battle, fight the Dreadnaught battle, Belsavis. Whatever your reasons, the choices have been yours all along."

Mara gazed up at the man who had destroyed her life, saved it, invaded it, and helped her rebuild it, finally taking his offered hand to rise. "You've always known that about me haven't you?"

"That you were never the detached, disinterested person you purported to be?" She was so extraordinary, disavowing it all even now, with the grime of another selfless escapade still on her face, "Yes, I've always known."

"Stang, I thought I had fooled everybody." As Mara set the lightsaber on the desk, Luke thought that people did not usually swear on learning that they were Jedi.

Thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her filthy suit, Mara hung her head, with his recognition of her secret, grinding a foot into the faded carpet. "I'd rather have people think I'm the mercenary."

"There are fewer expectations to disappoint."

Her heel left a dark smudge in the carpet that they both studied. Finally Mara said, "I suppose I should thank you, but I don't really feel much gratitude. I don't embrace that ethic the way you do, I don't think I want to or ever will."

She still did not see. "That's the irony of it. You say you don't, and yet I've never known you to do a thing inconsistent with it."

Mara straggled to the foot of the bed, tipping like a tree down its length. "We'll see if you still say that the first time I see Irek." She held up both feet, a silent request for him to remove her shoes. Luke did so, and then collapsed next to her.

Through an ear splitting yawn, Mara finally asked, "So what do we do now?"

He outlined the obstacles, "Borkin, Kyle, Irek, selling your cargo, date."

Mara edged up the length of the bed in search of a pillow, removing her utility belt along the way. "Not necessarily in that order." With ebbing strength she grabbed him by the shirt, "Can't talk if you're all the way down there." She groused a complaint when his lightsaber rapped her leg, so the belt and his own shoes came off too, the lightsaber remaining within his easy reach.

"If both Borkin and Irek are at the warehouse . . ." Luke trailed off. He tried resting on her shoulder, but found it too bony for comfort.

She grumbled "too bad" then, "How can we confirm Irek's here, and if we do, do we confront him, or sneak back to Yavin, get a whole bunch a Jedi and surprise him?"

"And if we face him here, can we be certain of getting Borkin and Kyle out and getting back to Coruscant?" Rolling onto his side, propped up on an elbow, Luke tried rubbing the dirt off her forehead, adding, "You're a mess."

Even with only one eye open, Mara was capable of a menacing glare, "You aren't much to look at either Jedi. If you don't like the sight, then leave."

He fought the mounting inertia, and lost, saying neutrally, "I think I'd rather stay."

He caught a slight smile and a wisp of, was it relief, or satisfaction? Nudging his supporting elbow so that he fell back, she said, "Well, then shut your eyes or turn off the light." As Luke did both, she continued, as if without the interruption, "And someone's going to have to let the security net down for us to leave."

Mara was drifting off when she heard her name, not sure if it was in her ears, or mind, "Hmmm?"

"What side of the bed do you normally sleep on?"

Good question. "Ahh, left. Got a problem with that?"

"No. Just convenient."

"You normally on the right?"

This time he definitely spoke. "Yeah, guess that's one less thing to fight over."

The discussion brought home the oddity of the situation. Voicing it, Mara said, "No one else would probably understand this would they?"

A warm hand covered her own, toying with her roughened fingers and the tip of a chipped nail, "I'm not sure I do."

"What's so hard to understand? We're friends, we have an agreement."

Luke's fingers moved up her arm, finding the wrist sheath and blaster she still wore. He worked the holster on her arm, locating and loosening the gussets in the dark. "The agreement is part of what makes it so strange."

The sheath joined the belts and shoes on the floor. By force of long habit, Mara set the blaster on the night stand near her head, as Luke finished, "Friends with an agreement don't normally share thoughts and a bed."

Over his protests, she made Luke rearrange his legs so the blanket was on top, instead of under them. "Skywalker?"

"What?" came a grumpy protest. "Are you going to make the bed before we sleep in it or something?"

She pulled the blanket up, and settled back down, "Do you suppose this is what old married people are like?"

"No. I imagine they normally use each other's first names."

He heard a light guffaw next to him, and said "'Nother way it's different."

There was a long pause, then, "All right, I'll take the bait, how else?"

"With a marriage I could at least petition for dissolution." His side still ached with the well-deserved jab when he fell asleep.

Mara felt it first, an icy talon tearing into her mind. Still sleeping, it had stolen in unawares before she could shut it out. "You didn't know who his real hand was did you? He never trusted a miserable failure of a slut like you. That man next to you murdered the only things you'll ever have." Struggling for air, drowning in venomous hatred, she did not know if it was her own battle against the pure malevolence of the assault, or Luke's own thrashing that wrested her from sleep.

She felt the malice turn on Luke, gloating, "I should have killed your bitch of a sister when I had the chance. The only woman you ever had was in a borrowed body, and you couldn't even keep that thing."

Gasping at the cruelty, Mara threw up a barricade, shielding them from the warped molestation. Distantly, she felt a yelp of pain and frustration as her barrier smashed into that depraved mind. With a violent start, Luke woke. And as suddenly as the attack began, the ill will abruptly disappeared, as if yanked from the very air.

Outrage and confusion washed over them, finally giving way to a forced, controlled calm. Mara touched the rough cheek next to hers, "You okay?"

Luke winced at the contact, then slowly turned to face his defender. "Yes, thanks. I guess that settled any questions I had."

"What a horrible person. What happened?"

Luke's voice was tight with anger that had not yet passed. "I was half asleep and even I felt his surprise when he met your barricade. That was probably his first encounter with a trained awareness in the Force. I don't feel any echo of him now, do you?"

"No. It's like he just vanished."

"He may have just boosted out of here. Remember that ship we saw? It would be typical for Irek: taunt us and then run away."

Mara tugged lightly on Luke's collar, trying to soften the harshness. "Not exactly my preferred wake up call. If he's gone, it could make our job here a lot easier."

"Only if he didn't take Borkin with him," Luke said, pushing away the long stringy strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Those who might consider the whole peculiar situation romantic had never woken up next to Mara. Mornings, never a good time for her anyway, were not improved when she still wore the suit and grime from the night before. He continued, "And if he's gone, things are a lot more complicated in the long run."

"He still has to come back here if they want to get the ships through." Responding to his unspoken observation, she quipped, "And seeing you right now doesn't exactly make me want to leap into bed with you either."

"I regret to inform you, but you already are in bed with me."

Blood shot green eyes widened in amazement, "I am? Damn. If I were feeling more energetic I'd shove you out." That did produce a slight smile.

Mara rolled over onto her back, staring at the faded canopy. She supposed that years of exposure to the harsh light now streaming in had long since reduced the formerly vivid colors and pattern to their present dusty, gauzy shade. Just another thing Mara thought, that would be considered romantic if you were twenty years younger. The cold bright morning pouring through the windows permitted few such illusions or delusions.

Luke interrupted her musings. "Will you help me sweep the area? See if we can detect him again?"

She sighed, supposing that a Jedi could never let such things lie. "Sure, go ahead." Luke began searching for that sneering mind, as Mara placed a hand over his, once again boosting his perception. They found, however, no trace of that dark presence.

After several silent minutes, Luke finally asked, "Did you hear what he said to me?" Mara did not want to respond to the pain and anger she heard, but Luke repeated the question, "Did you?"

She finally answered, "Yes."

"Do you think there's any truth to it?"

Mara tried shutting her eyes and mind to the misery. She could think of nothing to say that did not reek of trite platitudes. "No, of course not."

"You're a rotten liar."

"Actually, I'm quite a good liar."

"Except around me." Mara did not respond.

Through a clenched jaw, Luke finally admitted, "It's as if someone shouted to all the world the most loathsome things you think about yourself, the kinds of things you only admit to in your blackest, darkest moments, what I've berated myself over for five years. And Irek . . . " Luke could not finish, biting back the words with bitter fury.

"Luke, he's a thug, an evil, warped, perverted child."

She knew with anguish what he would say. "But what if that evil, warped, perverted child was right? That's what I'm afraid of Mara."

To the similar pleas Luke had made to her before, she had always responded with humor, sarcasm, and occasionally compassion, anything to jolt him from the brooding depression. But with this confession was a glimpse into a tormented and despairing soul. Mara had thought she wanted to see more of the person behind the austere control, and suddenly, now, was not so sure. She squeezed his hand, not daring to look at him, wanting to give him at least that small measure of dignity.

"Just remember Luke, that's not what Vader said."

"That all seems really unlikely to me right now."

"Well, who are you going to believe, your father, or the self-proclaimed bastard adolescent offspring of Palpatine?"

"You mean my father, the long dead Dark Lord of the Sith?"

Hearing his caustic edge dull slightly, Mara offered, "Well, if you are looking to either of them for dating advice, it's no wonder you're having problems. Stick with me, Skywalker, we've taken down clones, Grand Admirals, dark Jedi, destroyers of stars and planets and a whole bunch of superweapons. We can find you a girlfriend."

Mara was relieved when the mocking tone returned. "I'm having a crisis, and all you can think about is your twenty-two and a half percent commission? You unfeeling pirate." And with a well placed hand at her hip, Luke shoved her off the bed and onto the floor. Mara landed with a hard, painful thud and another curse.

Stretching up, she grabbed a protruding ankle and hand, and with a practiced yank, was pleased to have her tormentor flip onto the floor next to her with a resounding crash. "You deserved that," she accused.

Luke tackled her from behind, wrapping an arm about her shoulders and neck lightly, and then more tightly as he drew from her strength and comfort of a friend, "Thanks old buddy."

Mara felt a lump form in her throat, at the gratitude she heard in him, and at the malevolence which had prompted it. She bent over the arm slung about her and returned the squeeze with the same rough affection, "I'm sorry I wasn't quicker with the barricade. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Luke nestled his chin in her matted hair. "Hey, no apologies." The remainder was unspoken, both of them knowing some things were better left unsaid, "I couldn't have stood it if anybody else had heard."

Mara permitted the friendly embrace for a second longer, than scrambled to her feet. "Day's a wast'in. Time to make some money."

As Luke stood, she saw that he really did look terrible, still blood shot, grubby, severely rumpled. Definitely no romance here, Mara realized: work, sweat, pain, danger, years as a tempered team long ago obliterated any chance of that. It was the bargain they had struck. She thought, with some regrets, that she could live with the compromise.

"Mara, are you sure about this?"

They were standing outside the Tirgu Muresh Commodities Exchange, a grandiose name for a bunch of men and women sitting in a room trading. Mara had decided that Luke would be responsible for selling her wine and liquor stores. Luke was not really worried that he would be unable to sell the goods; it was what would happen if Mara deemed his sales prices too low. He did not relish the loss of another limb, or death in the vacuum of space.

"I don't want you eavesdropping. I'm nervous enough about this as it is. And you hovering over a haggle will just make it worse."

"The Jedi Master nervous? Over a dicker?" Mara laughed. "How do you get by in the real world?"

"You know perfectly well how," Luke replied with much dignity. "I never go out into it. Besides," he added, "it's not the bargaining the concerns me; it's what you will do to me if I don't squeeze every last credit out of the Imps."

Mara actually took pity on the poor Jedi Master. "Listen. You know for memory what I paid for all those goods, and you know what my costs were, right?" Luke nodded. "So, if you get fifteen percent on top of that, I'll be happy, any more than that, I'll be ecstatic. Fair enough?"

"Really?" Luke's voice hiked a full octave in relief.

"Really. And," Mara considered, and the businesswoman announced her decision. "I'll give you an incentive. You can keep any percentage over thirty percent."

Suspecting that Mara doubted he could do any better than that paltry sum, and with pride tweaked, Luke pushed for a better percentage, "Twenty."

"Twenty? You greedy . . ., all right, twenty-eight."

"Twenty-one. Caught you - you were hoping I'd go up faster than you would come down, like when we negotiated my girlfriend commission."

She humphed, confirming his suspicions. "Very good. You are definitely learning. How about twenty-five percent?"

"Why don't we make it another twenty-two and one half, then we only have one number to remember?"

They shook on it, and then each armed with a data pad, sauntered into the Commodity Exchange.

Luke had feared that he would have to approach people individually, convincing them to do business. Instead, the buyers swarmed over them as soon as they walked in, Mara shouting to them that her copilot had the wine and spirits, and she, everything else. Luke was jostled into the corner by over twenty sweaty, beady, beefy men, already arguing over the right to buy from him.

Determined not to use the Force, he found that he did not even need it. The demand for Mara's product was very high, and having accurate cost information going in meant he knew where to start. Selling by the case, he became the auctioneer to a score of eager buyers.

He was doing so well, he became concerned that Mara would think she had been fleeced by agreeing to roll over to him anything above 22.5%. Those pangs of guilt lasted all of thirty seconds, dissipating when Luke felt he prematurely cut off bargaining on a case of very fined aged spirits. After that, and bolstered by a certainty that Mara would have no such misgivings were the roles reversed, Luke showed no remorse, driving as hard a bargain as she would. Mara was going to owe him a substantial sum and he was looking forward to exacting it from her.

He sold the last bottle of wine and sat calculating his haul, starting to think big. Maybe a few more runs with Mara and he could finally upgrade the drive on the X wing . . . .

Mara interrupted his daydreaming. "Hey wake up farm boy." She was gloating, suffused with immense self-satisfaction, glowing, and obviously, if his own take was any indication, much richer. "How'd ya do?"

Luke said nothing, handing her the data pad. He wished he had a holo of the shocked, admiring, and irritated looks that crossed her face.

"The margins on some of the sparkling wines are smaller. You should think about getting more of the cavernol reds next time; it is evidently the trendy wine here right now. And the 25 year Corellian Reserva went fast as well, I probably should have held out for a higher price ..." Luke paused in his narration, trying to read the strong, undefinable emotions passing through her.

"That's interesting about the cavernol," Mara finally said. "It's always difficult to plan six months ahead for what the demand will be. Last time, demand was high for the norr reds."

"Those went well too. My sense, though, was that they were looking for a lighter, more versatile wine, particularly with the warmer season approaching. With the holidays over, I think that was why the sparkling wines didn't do as well either."

Mara was struck dumb, staring at him for a long silent moment, as if really seeing Luke for the first time. Then she held out her hand. "Well done, Trader Skywalker, very well done. If you have any other ideas on how to better gauge demand here for future runs, I'd be interested in hearing them."

Luke returned the firm shake, realizing it was the gesture of an equal.

Trading completed, they picked up Artoo and ran over to the space port. The ship had not been disturbed, still tightly locked down. Although Yur was not working until the late, third shift, they learned that the net had been dropped that morning for the departure of a Bacchanalia ship, resolving in their minds that Irek had indeed fled; no residue of his malicious presence lingered.

After much arguing about the advisability of such an action, they circled the Bacchanalia warehouse, venturing a probe into the facility to divine if Borkin was still in residence. Having found him once before, and knowing this time what to look for, Luke was able to focus the search and quickly found that frightened, pained mind. Borkin was still there, and Irek was not.

They sat for some time in the grass, under a tree, observing the site, identifying entrances, measuring distances. Luke commented at one point that all they needed was a picnic to make the afternoon complete. Mara sourly replied that picnics did not usually involve surveillance activity.

There seem to be no good solution. Go in now, get Borkin, get out, and maybe miss Irek. Wait, maybe lose Borkin, maybe get Irek, and then maybe not get out. Ultimately, the uncertainty of waiting in the hope of Irek's return decided the issue. They would wait, but not long, and would be prepared to leave on very short notice. Every day they waited increased the possibility that Borkin would just disappear.

Mara remained concerned most about net clearance, reasoning that if they caused a ruckus at Bacchanalia extracting Borkin, the port authority would be unlikely to drop the net for them to leave, no matter how nicely she asked. It would be a short and explosive trip. She was reluctant to prevail upon Yur, but they saw no other alternative. Any escape would depend on Yur, and assuming he would take that risk for them, when he could be counted on to be at the port. Kyle introduced another variable in the already complicated equation.

With Artoo's diagnostic help, the prep and systems checks on the ship only took a few hours. Luke was concerned that Mara had not laid in sufficient supplies of wine to survive a jump from Verrat to Coruscant; if both Borkin and Kyle joined them, Luke figured that his own consumption would probably increase two or three fold at a minimum. The thought of sitting through a Tales episode with Kyle was enough to warrant at least trying to convince Mara to leave the girl in Tirgu.

All that remained then was Yur. They were both dreading that confrontation. Luke verbalized his misgivings, "I really would prefer not seeing Dona again."

"I really would prefer not asking Yur to jeopardize his livelihood for us. I think we should both be there to explain." To that, Luke had no rejoinder.

On the other side of the barrier, the Remschi house at the end of the row, in daylight, seemed proudly shabby, its carefully manicured appearance serving only to underscore how poor it truly was. Some of the children were playing in the dirt in the front and upon seeing Mara, ran toward her. Dona was already at the door, gesturing them up the steps and shooing the children away with promises of treats later.

Luke was surprised. Dona's greeting to him was reserved, but kind, "Yur had said we might see you today."

Mara kissed Dona. "He's here, isn't he?"

A booming, "No cazut i shtea, of course I am little one," answered that question. Yur's bulk was settled carefully in his favorite arm chair in the next room. "And Luke too. Come in, come in. We will have wine and talk."

As they sat, Yur raked over them thoughtfully. "So, was your evening a pleasant one?"

Mara responded seriously to the jocular inquiry. "I think Yur, 'productive' might be a more accurate assessment."

Dona bustled in with glasses and a bottle, and as she poured, began with a question that was more of a statement. "You have found your missing friends."

Luke was not really surprised at her perceptiveness, even if Mara was. "Yes. Dazern Kyle was at the Exchange. And we know that Borkin, at least last night and this morning, was at the Bacchanalia warehouse."

Mara added carefully. "We hope that he will still be there for the next day or two." As she finished, she caught and held Yur's gaze.

They were all very still for a moment, shouts of playing children the only sounds. Even as Yur returned Mara's stare, Luke felt the current flowing between Dona and her husband. Decades together had honed their communication to something transcending even the mental link that he shared with Mara or his sister; Dona and Yur were speaking on a wholly private channel.

Mara said softly, "Yur, we wouldn't ask this of you, but we really do not have any other options."

It was Dona however, who answered, very quietly, "You should not ask this of us."

"We know that," Luke said to the stern woman. "We also know what caused the failure of the net. And if we can't leave here, the consequences could be very serious."

"Serious for whom?" Dona challenged. For you and Mara? For the fools you are helping? Or for a power so far away it has forgotten we even exist?"

Yur attempted to placate the steel of his wife, but Dona persisted, "No Yur, if they ask this of you, they owe us this much."

Luke began, but Mara interrupted him. "Let me explain. Dona, it is a fair question. Neither of you owes us or anyone else a thing. It takes everything you have just to survive. You have nothing left to give. But we know that there is a man here, in Tirgu who can control the net. He brought it down the first two times, he can do it again."

Skepticism imbued Yur's simple, "How?"

"He can bring it down, or up at will, through the ..." Mara stopped at Dona's icy glare, which forbade even mention of the word. "He can do this with his mind."

Dona immediately recognized the implications, asking in a hushed voice, "How can someone do this? To something that is an object? A machine?"

Although Mara had offered the explanation, Dona directed the question to Luke. He wished he could offer a coherent answer. "It's difficult to explain. As you and I can feel and understand the workings of living things, he has been trained to visualize the inner workings of machines, their schematics. He is able to manipulate them and cause them to malfunction."

Mara ventured, "The good news is that by periodically modulating the frequency of the net, or otherwise reprogramming it, he will probably not be able to bring it down. You will have control over it again."

Yur sat in silence for some time before finally observing, "I told you the other night Luke, that trouble seems to follow you and Inta."

Dona replied stiffly, "And they have brought trouble to us."

Yur stopped Mara's intended defense with a wave. "No Dona, do not be so harsh. Luke and Mara have not brought the trouble. I think they have merely discovered trouble that was already here." He continued, "I suspected earlier, and now I see I was indeed correct, that the two of you also have many unusual friends."

Luke offered soberly, "Not a friend."

Yur was studying the red wine Dona had poured him, swirling the drink in the glass, and perceiving another risk that Luke and Mara had brought. "You know my friends that even without hiring us at the warehouse, Bacchanalia has brought much work in the vineyards, that it has brought us a sliver of prosperity?"

"I know," Mara said sadly. "And all I can tell you Yur is that I would not rely upon that stream too much. Regardless of what happens when Luke and I leave here, what Bacchanalia is really doing is not sustainable, and is likely to dry up soon."

They sat in silence longer. Luke felt the connection flowing between Dona and Yur. He wanted to help, but was reluctant to do so. She was for what the consequences might be, but far more wary of a power that could level the barrier that protected their very world.

Without a word, they reached a decision together, Yur finally saying heavily. "It seems you have given me two valuable pieces of information. I think, Dona, we must help them as I can." He looked at his wife, but Dona said nothing, any misgivings entirely shrouded. "I work the third shift tonight and tomorrow night, and the second shift the day after. Perhaps all I need do, is blame the same mysterious," he paused with a twinkle to his wife, "forces that seemingly operated before. Such an account offered to explain your abrupt departure may even be accepted."

They stood to leave, all finding the goodbye uncertain and painful. A wave of sadness and regret washed by as Dona perceived the light saber handle at Mara's side. The tiny dark woman laid a gentle hand on Mara's arm. "Ah, Inta, you too?"

Mara swallowed convulsively, unable to make such a commitment aloud, relieved that Dona did not seem to actually expect an answer.

Dona turned to Luke, "And I assume Luke that should I be unable to dissuade others within my family, that you will also show them this path?"

The question was not sarcastic, but sincere, and Luke answered in kind, "I'll try."

"I believe Luke that in your creed, there is no trying, only doing, am I right?"

What a Master she would have made, he thought. "You're right. Of course, I will train any that you send me." Risking Mara's wrath, Luke offered, "And Dona, it would be my special privilege to work with you."

Yur laughed uproariously at his offer, "You are very bold Luke to suggest such a thing to my wife."

Mara kissed them both. "Yur, we may see you at the port, and we may not."

"I will wait for you Inta."

Luke did not feel that the episode with Rodica could go unacknowledged. "Please tell Rodica that," he paused, and out of deference, altered what he had intended to say, "that we will be thinking of her."

Dona nodded. "We will Luke. She and Sorin are very grateful to you." That Dona did not share their gratitude was clear. Yet as they were turning to leave Luke heard so softly in his mind he may have imagined it, "May you find happiness in the Force as well."

The day was not over yet. They were pushing down the crowded street, dodging the peddlers and yesh, when Mara espied a shop window. She stopped dead, transfixed by the display. "I've got to have it."

Luke was baffled. "What?"

She tugged his arm and pointed. "That."

"What is it?"

Now Mara was baffled. "What do you mean, what is it? It's a dress."

"That?"

Luke could imagine few things more horrifying that what Mara was contemplating. "I am not going in there with you."

"Oh come on. I'll need a second, male opinion." Mara began pulling on his sleeve. "Oh please."

"Mara Jade, impulse shopper?"

"I have to have it. Besides," she administered a wicked smirk, "the date is your idea, not mine. I need something to wear."

Luke dragged his feet up the steps. He would rather break into another cloning facility or a Star Destroyer with her than enter that shop; maybe even the date was not worth this agony.

Luke eased his way as inconspicuously as possible into a corner, terrified of upending a display case, and sat glumly on some dainty thing covered in a soft light fabric. He was surrounded by women's stuff; things he had never seen before, delicate things of an unidentified and frilly nature, and a few things he had seen before, but that had always been worn by another, that appeared like magic, only to be discarded a short while later. He never, ever wanted to know from where they came. He stared at the floor, wishing he was anywhere else and afraid he might see something of which he was much happier remaining ignorant.

The clerks all looked, dressed and talked like Dazern Kyle. Mara began ordering them around, talking about sizes, colors, hems, and haws and ... Luke shut his mind, launching into a meditation. He snapped out of it when he felt a foot kicking him.

"So which one?"

"Uhhh, which one what?" Mara was holding two black things on hangers. They had a lot of straps and hanging stuff and did not seem very substantial or practical.

"They're Brovonri originals."

"What?"

"He's a designer." It was a linguistic problem again; her statement did not add measurably to Luke's understanding. "I lost the ones I had on Corellia," she offered by way of explanation. "Which one do you like better?"

"Uh, are these dresses again?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, which one costs less?" Luke inspected the dangling tags and thought that it was a mistake, that he was suffering double vision, or that maybe some decimal points or commas were misplaced. He was outraged. "Where's the rest of them?"

Mara furrowed her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"That's all you get for that price? The credits themselves will cover more square area than those things will."

"They're great, aren't they? The less there is, the more they cost. Maybe I'll take both."

Skies, she was a Jedi, albeit an unacknowledged one. He wondered if he could talk her into wearing a robe over it. "You can't go out in something like that."

Mara pivoted on her heel. "Carrying concealed weapons is always a problem with Brovonris, but I'm sure I can solve that. I had no idea you were such a prude."

Mara returned to whatever it was she was doing, appearing a short while later, looking immensely pleased and bearing several packages. She tossed him a parcel.

"What's this?"

"It's for you. I'll take the cost out of what I owe you. They're so you won't look like you're wearing an older brother's hand-me-downs."

"Huh?" Luke peeked inside, at what seemed to be, well, new clothes. "How do you know, uhh, sizes and things?" He was so articulate. "I mean, I don't even know that stuff."

Mara could be so smug. "A woman just knows these things."

Luke was ready, had been ready for a while, and was just sitting waiting. The new duds were stiff at the neck and clearly needed to be dragged through the mud of the Yavin jungle and washed a few hundred times before approximating the comfort of his other belongings. He could feel the irritation and rushed preparations next door, and simply did not understand what the issue was. Even if it was a date, which they both knew candidly, it really was not, he did not think Mara would deem him as worth the trouble. And truly, how was it even possible to go on a date with someone you had known for a decade?

He finally caught a gush of satisfaction, and heard, "You ready yet?" Very funny. Luke headed through the unlocked door, and for one disorienting moment, thought he had blundered into the wrong room.

Mara, at least he assumed it was Mara, was standing in the middle of the room, and frowned at his confused entry. That settled it, the strange woman in a black dress that revealed more skin than it covered must be Mara.

Luke whistled appreciatively, reconsidering his former objections. He motioned her with a finger to turn around. There were many new features to consider. She had legs, the slit running three quarters way up the dress confirmed that. She also had a back and arms, visible since nothing covered them. There was also a line of neck exposed because her unruly hair was pulled up into some kind of knot.

Two things mystified him. "How does it stay up?"

"What?"

"The dress."

She rolled her eyes and turned to permit an inspection. "See? It fastens in the back, at the neck."

"Oh." He scanned her, but unable to answer the second question, finally blurted out, "Where's your blaster?"

She pulled back the skirt slit, baring a long leg and a holster firmly affixed to it. "And no, I don't need any help with it."

He noticed something else. "A lightsaber doesn't really go with that does it?"

Mara fingered the handle clipped at her side, "No, but I figure if anyone asks, I'll tell them it's just a really large tube of Clineek lipstick."

"Huh?"

"Never mind Skywalker, it's joke you would never understand."

It was his turn for inspection, Mara circling around him. "Much better. We might even be able to find you a girlfriend sometime."

She reached for her over tunic, but Luke interrupted the gesture. "No, I think I'm supposed to do that." Helping her into it, Luke added, "You still expect a twenty-two and a half percent commission after the killing you made today?"

"You obviously don't know that fundamental rule of trading. What's the only thing better than a lot of money?"

"More money?"

"Very good, for a Jedi."

Never one to miss the opportunity, at the restaurant, over dinner, Mara began further instruction in dating etiquette, agreeing to do so for free only because Luke had acquitted himself so well during the trading. "Now if this were a real date, we would be sticking to safe, introductory, getting to know you topics, like favorite colors and sports teams."

"Well I don't know any of those things about you, and we've known each for ten years. So what's your favorite color?"

"Nighttime, daytime, bedtime?"

Luke took the provocation in the spirit it was intended. "All three."

"Black, green, white. What about you? Not that Jedi Masters have much to offer in fashion."

Luke shrugged. "Blue I guess. Brown? I don't really know. I bet the Imperials are your favorite smashball team."

"And yours is probably the Alliance. Favorite place?"

"Yavin, I suppose. It's as much a home as any place I've ever had. Coruscant is special of course, because that's where my family is."

Mara shied from the wistfulness that had crept into his voice and what it portended and plunged ahead. "I liked Karrde's compound on Myrkr a lot. It was very pretty there."

"You couldn't reach the Force though."

"Well, at the time, that was part of the attraction. It kept the nightmares away. Favorite book?"

"Ahh, any of the poetry by Sinda Shreverna."

"I heard death's rattle at my door?" she quoted.

"Right. I like some of her romantic things better."

"Why am I not surprised? 'My love comes to me in light shrouded,'" she began.

"Bird wings whispering softly..."

"In the night darkened," Mara finished.

"From the sublime to the ridiculous, what's your favorite holovid?"

"The question is which episode is my favorite," Mara began with malicious glee. "I think I like the one best where you take out the Super Death Star 24 with the never-needs-recharging, law of physics-defying, super ray gun."

The enthusiasm was ghoulish. "You like the ones with high body counts, don't you?"

"Well you probably like the ones with a high babe count."

"Babe?" he hooted. "In the Tales, the 'babe' count is usually reduced to 'body' count in short order. You're going to have to find me a girlfriend with a longer projected life span. In fact, I'm going to insist we put a new clause in the contract to that effect."

Mara was indignant. "I'm not renegotiating. If you can't keep her alive after the second date, that's your problem."

He waggled a piece of silverware at her. "What about a graduated commission scale based upon longevity, the longer she lives, the higher your commission?"

Mara tapped a finger on the table considering. "Maybe, but that means I'd want a bigger cut at the high end."

Luke hardened his features in the perfect semblance of a tough bargainer. "But then you'd have to settle for a lower cut earlier on, say only five percent if she doesn't live the month."

"But 35% if she lasts a year?"

He was getting really good at this, shrugging noncommittally. "Maybe."

Mara fired back, "Favorite food?"

Luke picked up the wine to refill their glasses. "Anything in a bottle with a high alcohol content."

Mara rested a chin in her hands, starting to see the man across from her in a slightly different light, maybe he could be fun. Still pouring, Luke was not even looking at her, but responded promptly, "I heard that."

She struck his cheek lightly. "Stop eavesdropping."

Luke affected astonishment. "Eavesdropping? Me? As if I would ever need to resort to so low a tactic; everyone in the restaurant heard what you didn't say."

"Ha, ha. Favorite animal?"

"Krayt dragon, of course."

"Why of course?"

"It was the first thing that popped into my head. They're huge, mean and live forever, what's not to like?" Luke waved another piece of silverware at her accusingly. "Now you're going to admit it, I can tell, you like something soft, cute and cuddly."

"I do not," was her prim response. "To the extent I have a favorite animal, it would be a terrarius."

"A what?"

"Terrarius. Four legged domesticated carnivores, about 40 centimeters high, 10 kilos or so. They go down holes to chase vermin, tenacious, they tend to snap first and ask questions later. I suppose they are cute, if you can call anything with sharp teeth and a high pitched yelp cute."

"Why Mara, but for the dimensions, you've just described yourself."

Mara opened her mouth, and then quickly shut it in irritated amazement. Luke thought he was hilarious. "As a rule Skywalker, it's bad form to make fun of your date."

"I'm not making fun of you," Luke quickly contradicted. "I'm teasing you."

"It's a distinction without a difference," she humphed. "People who do either to me usually don't live to see the next day."

"But I'm not like other people." Mara could certainly concur with that egotistical self-assessment.

"And," Luke added sagely, "neither are you."

"What are you rambling about?"

"Just that you are not like other people either. You may have an easier time of it in the real world than I do, but it's hard for you too."

Belying her reflections on that very topic only the day before, Mara awarded him a scornful snort. "You sound like a self-help program Skywalker, favorite season?"

Without hesitation, "Winter."

"Winter? How can you say such a thing?"

"Easy, you know what the summers are like at the Academy. You can imagine what they were like on Tatooine. I like weather, rain, snow."

"Of course," Mara waved a hand in annoyance. "How could I forget your attraction to things snowy and wet? I think I like Spring, pretty much anywhere, new year, new life, new beginnings, and best of all, a new trading season."

"And night is your favorite time of day?"

Mara was quite emphatic. "Nothing can be done during the day that can't be done better in the dark. And some things can only be done in the dead of night. But you wouldn't know that being one of those beastly morning people."

Luke made a point of taking a deep sip of the wine. "I think you might have converted me. Breaking laws is definitely one activity best left to the time when all sensible people are long since in bed."

"This is really about more than simple bedtimes, isn't it?" she demanded.

He started at the challenge. "What do you mean?"

"You've been enjoying this, enjoying what we're doing, what we have been doing: breaking into places; looking for bad guys, drinking wine in a warehouse when what we should be doing is sneaking out as quickly as possible; sticking around in the hope of finding some really dangerous people who would be thrilled to blast us if they could get a clean shot."

Mara had no appreciation of the gravity of her observation. "Is it that obvious?"

"It is to me."

Luke said slowly, carefully, "The Master who taught me after Ben died almost wouldn't take me on because he thought I was too reckless. 'Adventure, excitement, a Jedi craves not these things.'"

"But," she protested, "that's ridiculous. Those things make life worth living."

Luke fingered the etchings on his wine glass. "Maybe, but that's what he would tell me." He traced the rim of the glass. "The problem is, I do crave those things, I always have. Twenty years later, I still do."

Putting an elbow on the table, she offered, "I can't really answer the broader philosophical issues of the wisdom of Jedi passivity. You know my opinions on the subject. But, I can tell you this." She grabbed his wrist and gave it a little shake. "I think this trip has been good for you and I intend to take full credit for it when we get back to Coruscant."

He laughed at the intense satisfaction in her voice.

"Really, I'm serious. It's not just that you've been so morose I've wanted to slap you around and put you on antidepressants."

"Actually you have slapped me around some."

She objected, "Only once and you deserved it," then continued. "It's just that some of your confidence, your willingness to take risks is back. And I think that's a good thing. Those are your more attractive traits. If they are inconsistent with the Jedi Master, than I'm glad you left him back on Yavin."

He was stunned, and responded in a mocking tone. "Why that's probably the nicest the thing you've ever said to me."

Mara took a sip from her glass, gesturing to the bottle, "Blame it on the wine. I call 'em as I see 'em."

"So my best qualities are the ones most antithetical to a Jedi?"

She shook her head. "I don't think those things are necessarily inconsistent with the Jedi Code. Certainly, to some extent your Master was right, but I would qualify it by saying that a Jedi should not act recklessly by seeking out unnecessary or foolish risks. Many risks are worth taking."

"Do you think the key is having the experience to know which ones to take?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way but, yes, that makes sense. Being a Jedi Master must count for something besides the ability to levitate really big rocks." She rested her chin in a rough, cupped hand to gaze at him thoughtfully. "It's like our discussion about going through the belt. It may be one reason why we work well together. Since I," the arch tone of superiority was unmistakable, "have a very well-developed survival instinct, you don't have to stop at just craving danger and adventure..."

Luke interrupted her. "Don't forget excitement, I like that one too."

She grinned and nodded into her hand. "Excitement, whatever. Go ahead, push the limit, walk the edge, take the risk. You've nothing to worry about around me. I won't let you needlessly risk your neck, if it means endangering mine."

With her last statement Luke had leaned in over the table, and now ran a finger up her raised arm to her face, thinking she would not shrug him off, if only to prove that she could withstand the touch. "Do you think we've been taking needless risks here?"

She would not yield, continuing to meet his stare without betraying an iota of what she felt, of what he was certain raged beneath, "No." Then she added in a dangerous whisper, "Not yet."

The arrival of dinner interrupted the standoff, Mara broaching a new topic, "We've done some favorites, how about firsts."

"Well we know first drunks already."

Mara, eyeing the vegetables she had skewered with a fork, came up with one, "Who was your first kill?"

"Stormtrooper, first Death Star." Luke paused to cut the mystery meat on his plate, "You?"

"Assassination of a Senator. It was my graduation test." After swallowing a mouthful of salad, she added, "I got to keep the blaster."

"Really? All I got for graduation was a new pair of macrobinoculars. What kind of blaster?"

"Small hold out of course. I've still got it. The sight's gone, trigger's almost worn off, but it was a great blaster."

Luke had to blow lightly on the scalding, starchy grain that came with dinner, "I lost my favorite blaster on Bespin. And haven't really used one much since. Spent most of the rest of the war in the X Wing or using the light saber."

"When was your first kill with the light saber?"

Luke said between bites, "On Jabba's barge. You really didn't use one much until Wayland did you?"

"No, but I did pretty well for a beginner."

He laughed at her flip, proud remark. "What was your first air fight?"

"I was the gunner on a highly modified freighter. Part of an operation to infiltrate a rebel cell on Nar Shaddaa." She stopped to thoughtfully chew her entree before continuing. "Bad luck really, we bumped into a Rebellion convoy, small squad escorting a transport. Took them all out. What about you?"

Luke moved the food around on his plate, it was nice to have something not from a ship galley. "First Death Star again. Gunner on the Falcon, blew up some TIE's. Did you ever fly those old TIE's?"

She nodded, "Oh sure. Did you?"

"Once. After Bakura. Felt like I was hurtling through space in just an enviro suit."

"That's what made them so great," Mara injected enthusiastically. "But since you only flew those things with _shields_ and _oxygen_, you wouldn't know that."

"The only prerequisite training a TIE _pilot_ needed was a death wish. I never saw one that could have handled a ..."

Through the remainder of the meal they launched into an animated and hyper technical discussion of the design specifications of old TIE's and X, Y, A and B Wings, agreeing with much complaining that the next generation X Wings had seemingly retained none of the good qualities of the older craft and all of the bad, and disagreeing vociferously as to the relative merits of the Sienar, Incom, Kuat and Corellian ship designers.

After the meal was cleared they began redesigning an X Wing on the table cloth, making the waiter very nervous that the bold strokes of ink used were likely indelible. The restaurant staff began swinging by surreptitiously to listen in on the bizarre couple at table 10 who were either speaking some strange form of Basic never heard in Tirgu before, or were completely insane.

They both had never enjoyed a date more. Mara wanted the waiter to fold up the table cloth so she could take it with them. "Seriously Skywalker, if trading doesn't work out, we could go into ship design. I'd make a fortune, and I'd even give you a cut."

"How big?"

"Aren't we getting greedy for an ascetic? It depends on how much capital I would have to put in up front."

"All right, I have to ask, just how much are you worth?"

Mara snorted, "I'm not telling you that."

"Oh come on," he cajoled, "I won't tell anybody, Jedi honor."

"I thought the Jedi Master was back on Yavin," she observed suspiciously.

"I could get him back here."

"No!" Mara almost upset her wine glass in amused horror. "Leave him there. Only fun people allowed here."

Luke pounced. "Ah ha! You admit it. I am fun."

Mara buried her head on her arm. "Damn, damn, damn. Trapped again," then raised her eyes, brightening. "Does this mean we can leave now?"

"No. The evening is still young for us nocturnal creatures. So how much did you make last year?"

Mara guffawed at the impudent persistence. "There are a lot of things I'd tell you Skywalker, before I'd tell you something like that."

Luke mulled the possibilities. "First love?" Mara groaned. "Either that, or how much you made last year."

She groaned again. "All right, but you go first."

Luke replied smartly, "I didn't make anything last year, I'm a ward of the New Republic treasury."

Mara picked up a knife and waved it menacingly. "The other one you addle brained..."

"No sense of humor at all Mara. But just to prove I'm honorable, even if the Master is still meditating on a log in the jungle, I'll answer the other first too. First love?" Luke pretended a dreamy sigh, "I was nine years old, and madly in love with my teacher. She was gorgeous. And I'll just bet your first crush was some older military type in the court, or maybe a pilot."

"You'd be wrong."

"Who then?" Luke queried, sincerely intrigued, then catching her drift, affected mock horror. "NO! Really? Mara, I'm shocked."

"Scandalous, isn't it?"

"A stormtrooper?"

"It's like I told you before. Cute, dumb, real uncomplicated. And a girl just can't say no to a man in armor."

"I bet it was the possibility of qualifying with a stormtrooper rifle."

"You'd be right. I was barely eighteen. Met him on a mission..." Abruptly she halted, the smile fading to a creased, pained frown.

Luke caught a breath of the bittersweetness of the memory for her. He said quietly into the lull that hung, "Palpatine spoiled it for you didn't he?"

"Let's just say it didn't end happily," she said sullenly. Abandoning the dinner fork she had begun to grind into the table, Mara signaled a return to safer ground with an abrupt about face. "How about first kiss?"

Feeling somewhat chastened for his unwitting blunder into Mara's personal minefield, he opted to obey her warning to proceed no further and let the rare moment pass. "At age ten I stole a kiss from Jenin Mur." Luke sported another vacant, faraway look. "She was gorgeous too."

"At the tender age of eleven, the very handsome Captain Whartil kissed me right here." Mara tapped the middle of her forehead. "I almost swooned, right in the Emperor's audience chamber."

"We probably know what the worst moments of our lives were, what about the happiest?" Luke asked.

The pause that followed indicated merely careful thought this time. "The first time I took the Jade's Fire, my very own ship into hyperspace, that was great," Mara gushed. "The first deal I closed as a Master Trader. Those rank up there."

These strange priorities no longer mystified him; Luke now understood that such things were important to Mara because a hard life had left her so little.

"What about you?"

Luke would never forget it. "When I found Callista in the escape pod."

"I thought that's probably what you would say," Mara said quietly. "I..." she trailed off, the silence jolting Luke out of his reverie, "What?"

Mara bit her lip, then reached over, placing a hand over his, "I've never told you, but Luke, I am sorry. About Callista I mean. I didn't like her, I still don't. But, she made you happy, and I'm sorry it didn't work out." She withdrew her hand, suddenly awkward. For Mara, it was an extraordinary speech.

"It's probably bad form for me to reminisce about old girlfriends on a date."

"Others might not understand," Mara agreed. She looked around at the other tables, at the couples who still believed in sentiment and futures together bright with promise and romance. They both caught wisps of the tender feelings wafting through the room.

Luke said softly, silently to her, "But we're not like the others are we?"

She hesitated, apparently loath to make such a concession, but then said aloud, "No, I guess we're not."

In thinking of the people they had met the last two days, Luke understood that it was not only the Force that separated him and Mara from others. Speaking the thought, he said, "We both have paid heavy prices for what we are today."

Mara nodded, but then gestured to the table cloth with the ship design. "It has its rewards too."

Luke jumped slightly as the lights abruptly dimmed. "They're not kicking us out already are they?"

Mara laughed at his naiveté. "No, music's starting. It's just recordings tonight." She pointed to the darkened staging area.

"That means dancing out there then, right?"

"Well actually we usually start on the tables, and take it from there."

Luke protested. "Don't make fun of me, I'm new to this sort of thing."

Mara gave him a tart and deserved rejoinder, "I'm not making fun of you, I'm teasing you."

As couples began crowding onto the floor, she stood. "Now's your chance to skip out."

"Nope. I'll just try not to injure you." Luke rose as well, hesitating, slightly disconcerted. "Uhh, one thing, where am I supposed to put ahh..." He lightly pressed her bare back and then withdrew his hand again.

She snickered at his discomfiture. "Where you always have. What, afraid you can't handle it?"

"We Gamorreans just want to ask first, that's all."

Luke was astonished that he actually recognized the 4/4 time for a vulpen trot. He was further amazed that he managed to make it across the floor once without treading on Mara or the other patrons.

Mara smiled encouragingly. "Remarkable what latent skills a Jedi farm boy harbors."

In making their first turn, Mara shifted and he alighted on something he had not noticed before. He moved his hand slightly down her right side. "What's that?"

"Vibro knife scar. Got it in a bar fight."

As another couple jostled into them, Luke commented critically, "They're not keeping their zone."

With a glance at the exuberant pair, Mara observed, "I suspect they have no interest in maintaining their distance."

"Amateurs."

Luke led her through a smooth turn, bringing Mara to certain obvious and wanting comparisons, "I guess I didn't tell you. Dran tried a line I hadn't heard before, he wanted to show me his knife scar. I thought showing him mine would shut him up."

Luke was actually very pleased that he was able to talk and not be constantly repeating to himself, side step glide. "Did it?"

"Never showed him, I got distracted."

"By what? His scintillating conversation?"

Another glide, and then a turn. "No. I started wondering where your scars were."

"Now that's really degenerate."

"It is, isn't it? I've always maintained scars tell you a lot about where a person's been, what he's done."

With another step at the downbeat, Luke was both wondering where they were headed, and encouraged with the direction. "Well I certainly have my share."

"I'm burning with curiosity."

"Face, legs and back are the worse ones."

"Where'd you get them?"

"Hoth, Bakura, the Eye and Pydyr. Few training scars, oh and apart from losing the arm, I got banged up pretty badly on Bespin."

Mara said sympathetically as they turned back to traverse the diagonal, "Well jumping off a platform down an exhaust shaft will do that to a body."

"Oh and on Dathomir, I took a hit to the face again."

Mara moved slightly closer to examine his face, edging into his "zone" for as good an inspection as the dim lighting and proper dancing form permitted. "Why do I get the feeling that some people just don't like your looks?"

"I almost died there, too."

"Tell me more."

Brushing too close to the stage, Luke guided her back into the center. "One of the witches blasted me. I ended up in a gully with major head injuries."

"What about with Palpatine?"

"This is really a macabre fantasy of yours isn't it?"

"This coming from a man who likes women in reptile skins or sopping wet and covered with feathers?"

Luke migrated slightly into Mara's zone. "I'm reconsidering. I've decided that a woman in black or covered with dirt and grass stains has a lot of appeal too."

Mara returned them to proper style with a "Ha! We'll be sure to add that to your lonely heart ad then. So what did Palpatine do?"

They were buffeted by another couple, possessing of greater youthful ardor and less skill. "No physical scars, but he did almost electrocute me, and caused massive calcification of my skeletal structure."

Mara ogled with gusto, "I love it when you talk about mangled body parts."

Thinking this was the oddest titillation he had ever encountered, Luke racked his brain further. "And someone tried to kill me on Bakura with a parasite that almost ate my heart and lungs."

"Now that's disgusting."

Sufficiently encouraged, Luke decided to take Mara's earlier advice about pushing a limit, and on the turn, slid his hand back to her scar. "So how far down does this one go?"

The mocking reprimand died in her throat. For a moment he thought he had caused Mara's abrupt tensing, but the anxiety flowing through her was far out of proportion to their not-so-casual, highly charged banter. "What is it?"

She brought a deceptively languid arm around his neck, bringing his head down to whisper, "Move toward the back, we've got company." They danced into the darker recesses of the floor, Mara subtlety turning them so that her back was to the audience and restaurant. "Keep your head low," she muttered. "They'll recognize you too. Over my right shoulder, couple just seated, two tables from ours, see them?"

Luke, feigning an interest in Mara's neck and ear, cautiously raised his eyes. In the dimness he saw seated at a table, a stern older man and a woman with a harsh face. Although in civilian clothing, both he realized, had a distinctive military carriage. It was the hair though that told him all he needed to know. He buried his head again at Mara's ear. "Admiral Daala, who's the man?"

"She's not an Admiral anymore. The man is Admiral Pellaeon, once Thrawn's second in command. She relinquished her command to him after the assault on Yavin five years ago."

Now it was Luke's turn to tense at the memory of what that attack had cost him personally. He felt a sympathetic swell from Mara, and muttered in a hard voice, "Just another bit of irony. Next time, we let NRI do their own work, and save ourselves the trouble of all these chance encounters with old friends."

Mara grimaced slightly. "Unless this is a terrific coincidence, I'd say we just discovered who is making Irek's purchasing decisions. You sure know how to show a woman a good time Skywalker. I may have to reconsider my opinion of you."

They moved closer together in the dim confines behind the stage, a false vision of intimacy, and conferred on strategy. "What's the chance they recognize you Mara?"

"I've never met Daala. But Pellaeon and Thrawn had the nerve to put a bounty on me. I'm still annoyed about it. And unlike others here, they know the actor from the genuine article. I'd say they have a real personal grudge against you."

Luke opened carefully to the Force, sensing some strong emotions among the couples in the dark restaurant, but nothing of a suspicious air. "They haven't recognized us yet. Can you hear what they are saying?"

He felt her carefully focus on the table across the room, wary as he was of using the Force and possibly alerting others. She shook her head fractionally. "They're too far, if I rely too much on the Force . . ."

"No that's right, there may be other sensitives here, and Irek could still be around. I'd lay odds though, they're up to their eyes in this." An idea took shape in Luke's mind. "If we were back at our table, do you think you could eavesdrop without attracting too much attention?"

Mara narrowed her eyes. "Sure, but it'd be crazy to get that close to them."

"Not necessarily. If you concentrate on what they're saying, I could alter us just enough that we wouldn't be recognized."

"Is it worth the risk? If you draw that heavily on the Force, someone's going to notice."

He shook his head, again sensing the temper of the room. "I don't think it will take that much. Look around, you can feel what's going on in here."

She hesitated, then nodded.

"I'll just tap into that emotion, channel it, extend it to create an illusion that includes us. I've done it before. It's so dark in here, I won't even need to make us that different, I'll just blur us enough so that we blend in with everything else."

Mara was skeptical on several fronts. "Irek might still show up. Even a Force sensitive Verratan could make this real uncomfortable real quick. Do you think you can do it without anyone noticing?"

"I think so, but be sure to scope out the exits if we have to leave in a hurry."

"That's not very reassuring. And . . ."

It took Luke a moment to recognize the emotion stemming from Mara; embarrassment was so rare for her. "What?"

"Not to get too personal, but you do recognize the predominate feelings in here, don't you? You sure you know what you're doing?"

He said patiently, and slightly amused, "Yes Mara, I do. You take care of listening into them, I can handle the rest."

Their plotting had lasted through almost a complete set. With the completion of the dance, they began moving out of the shadows, heads down and together, returning slowly to their table. Luke let Mara guide, concentrating instead on letting the emotional tide of the room wash over them, creating a blurred tableau indistinguishable from that of the other couples in the darkened, close restaurant. Force sensitivity was not necessary to divine what all but a very few people in the room were thinking and feeling, and it was these feelings Luke manipulated to craft the illusion encompassing the two of them. It was easier even then physically altering their appearance, relying instead on the rudimentary trick magic so often is of simply creating an image of what was expected and assumed.

They returned to their table without so much as a glance from the nearby Imperials. Mara muttered "So far so good," as Luke brought his chair next to hers.

They sat, knee to knee, hunched over the table, as if in a quiet conference, Mara leaning forward and Luke snaking an arm around the back of her chair. Head bent, Mara directed a narrow sliver of the Force two tables away, and began a running, whispered commentary into his ear. "They're trying to decide what to order, and their using their first names. He's having wine, and she's haaaaving, uh can't decide. No, she's having tolinka."

"Well, she can't be all bad then can she?"

"They're talking about the menu. They're not eating, just drinking."

"I like them more already."

"Sounds like they haven't seen each other in a day or so. She wants to know where His Highness went and that oh, a very unladylike description of Roganda."

"I hope the rough language doesn't offend you," Luke quipped.

Mara seemed gleeful. "We are so smart Skywalker, Pellaeon sounds really sick of them, but just said you can't have an Empire without an Emperor. He's a little worried about Roganda, and Irek is becoming more unpredictable because of his drug use." A question mark punctuated her last sentence.

Luke muttered affirmatively, "Leia said as much. So we have a Dark Side, untrained, immature, spoiled, Force user who is also an addict."

"Funny," she whispered, "Pellaeon said almost the same thing." He caught a glimmer of mischief. "Maybe we should just join them, since we all think so much alike?"

"Keep talking Mara."

"Blah, blah, blah, something about Force users. Until they find something better, Irek will have to do. Pellaeon is such a reflective man, just said that they are meant to lead and serve, not to rule."

"She's interrupting his philosophical ruminations, asks again, where'd Irek go. He says Irek left this morning to bring another ship in." Luke felt her anxious start. "He also says he wanted Irek out of here because I'm here." Mara glanced up, furtive and worried, "He's the one who went to check out my cargo. Says I'm a legitimate trader but probably also an NRI spy?"

"Your reputation is ruined."

Mara bent her ear again. "Skywalker this is hilarious, she just asked whether they've figured out if you are really with me. Maybe we suggest they just look two tables over?" She was such a character.

"Daala has some very unflattering things to say about you. Such a mouth. I don't think Pellaeon likes her very much."

"Neither do I."

"Pellaeon's really quite intelligent. He thinks that you are here." Mara sobered, abruptly serious. "I don't like this at all. Their intelligence is very good. They intercepted part of the message I got from Solo, and know that I promised to go to Yavin. He thinks that means you must be here, even if everyone thinks Luke Skywalker looks like that actor on the holovid. Pellaeon knows better."

"I had no idea that vid would be so useful."

"They are confused about why we're here. Arguing." Luke could feel a slight rise in the emotional temper from that table. "He says it doesn't make sense. If NRI suspected something was going on here and sent its most dangerous team... This is great, he's talking about us! I'm so flattered. Are you flattered?"

"Very." She grinned briefly before turning her ear back to the conversation.

"Blah, blah, blah, oh, here we go again, he thinks we must have been sent to rescue Borkin."

"Well that's an astute guess."

"But that's why Pellaeon's so confused. He thinks we must know what is going on because otherwise NRI wouldn't waste us to extract a third rate agent like Borkin. But if that's the case, if it's so serious, he wants to know why we aren't going undercover. He's not sure what to make of it."

"He's thinking too hard."

"That's what Daala just said. I know you two really have a lot in common. She thinks he's being very obtuse. Everyone knows..." She ceased the commentary with a curse.

"What, what did she say?"

Mara glanced up, biting a lip with apprehension, locking eyes with him. "She says your being here is more a coincidence than an NRI plan. She says NRI wouldn't have deliberately sent Skywalker because everyone knows he lost his nerve after that Jedi woman left him."

First Irek, and now this. The knot of anger tightly balled within him roiled momentarily before Luke quelled it. What they were doing was too important to jeopardize with misplaced ego. Putting a hand over hers, Luke gave Mara a squeeze and a wink. "Looks like they're wrong." She twitched a smile before bending her head again to listen.

Focusing on anything except the insult Daala had leveled, Luke fastened instead on the illusion, on the emotional tide in the room, on Mara, on how a tendril of her wavy hair was wrapped around her dangling left earring. For him, maintaining the blurred confusion of their features was easy. What made the game with the Imperials only two tables away so interesting was tapping into and manipulating the strong emotions around them to create the effect.

It was not anything so juvenile as being swept along in the passions of others. After decades of practice and control it was far easier for such emotion to pass right by him, then to actually indulge in it himself. But, recalling again Mara's words about limits and risks, Luke speculated that maybe it was time to risk testing those limits.

Mara continued her monologue. "Oh, this is amusing."

He leaned closer to her and idly began fingering the earring, whispering, "What is?"

"They're arguing about whether we are lovers."

"Really?"

"Seems their intelligence sources have given them conflicting reports."

"I can imagine." Luke was examining the line of her neck from ear to collar bone. Her skin was lightly freckled and looked very inviting.

Unaware of the scrutiny, Mara continued, "She says no," then swore again in his defense. "Daala says that you've been pining for that Jedi."

Pining away? Lost his nerve? Luke didn't think so, certainly right now Callista was the last thing on his mind. At the moment, Luke was not really thinking of much else except the illusion of intimacy between himself and the very compelling woman next to him, and that maybe it was not such an illusion after all.

"Pellaeon's not sure, thinks that," Mara flinched, cutting off her narration with a hissed, "What are you doing?" as Luke dropped his hand to stroke her bare back.

He bent over her slim shoulder, grazing it with a kiss before finding her ear, "Adding some verisimilitude, we'll blend in better."

She tried pulling away slightly, but it only offered a more appealing expanse of neck to cover. "Can't you do this with a little less realism? I'm trying to concentrate."

He began nuzzling her ear. "Think of it as a split concentration exercise. What are they saying?" Luke asked, before beginning to travel along her neck.

Mara bent her head again, muttering angrily, "I've lost the thread of it . . . Ahh, okay, Daala's mad that they didn't kill Borkin and Kyle right away. Would mean less risk now that we're here, and Borkin has been too stupid and stubborn to be of any use."

Luke brought his hand to the nape of her neck, caressing each tense muscle and vertebrae on the way down. He could feel her skin prickle with the touch.

"This sounds like an old argument between them. Pellaeon says they couldn't kill Kyle because they needed the family's cooperation with the Exchange."

Luke sought Mara's ear again, whispering, "That makes sense, I'd wondered why they hadn't gone after her." Having traversed down, his hand moved over to her right side, finding the beginning of her scar, and thinking he'd like to locate its end later. With her barely suppressed a tremor, he knew Mara had also heard his thought.

"Pellaeon says Borkin has been useful for Irek. Calls Borkin another toy for his Highness. He hasn't let Irek completely lose on him yet, but is reconsidering, thinks with us showing up, Daala may be right and it's too dangerous to keep Borkin around."

Luke's voice was harsh even if the fingers counting each rib up Mara's side were gentle. "Then we've got to get him out of there."

Inclining her head in a nod provided another opportunity for a kiss at the base of her neck. Under his lips and fingers he could feel the tension. She was at once both resisting and leaning into him. She was such a clever liar, but just wasn't very good at lying to him.

"Pellaeon said Irek will be returning in a few hours with another shipment. Irek's going to take Borkin and head back out until we're gone."

"We'll have to break him out tonight then. Keep listening, we need to find out what they have in mind for us. I can't believe they are just going to let us walk out of here." Under the flat of his hand he felt a shudder of - anger? Certainly. What else was aroused made the continuation of his roaming explorations worth the hazards of her temper.

"Daala is talking about their recent purchases. Wondering whether they have enough for another Interdictor." She asked almost absently, "I don't even remember seeing an Interdictor."

"I don't either." Having surveyed her back and side, Luke traced a forefinger down the underside of her arm. The action merited a hostile glare on the one hand and a sensitive quiver on the other that was a far more reliable indicator than the glare. He realized Mara had needed this face saving demonstration of token resistance. He had given her an excuse to say yes, and a means of saying no. If she had been truly unwilling, she would have resorted to the tableware. They craved the same things and Mara was savoring the thrill as much as he was. He shrugged, whispering back, "Gotta make this realistic."

"She says she doesn't think the scam's going to be able to continue much longer, and with us here, they may pull it up altogether. She wants to put a tail on us."

"That's a really dumb idea."

"Pellaeon thinks so too."

Glancing up from another kiss he had planted on her shoulder, Luke caught the interest and confusion of an observing Verratan waiter in the restaurant. The man was looking first at him and at Mara, and then at Daala and Pellaeon two tables away. He found Mara's ear again. "We are starting to attract some attention, we may not have much more time."

"Pellaeon thinks we're getting ready to boost. Ahh, he's put a prijgin watch on the ship," she swore. "Daala wants to know if they can use some of their new hardware."

Stroking along the delicate line where the edge of her dress met warming skin, Luke felt her shudder under his touch as she relayed, "Pellaeon agrees. He doesn't want anything suspicious to happen planetside. He says we'll be easier targets once we're up."

Mara turned her head to face him, and raising an arm, wrapped her fingers hard about the back of his neck. "He says we're going to make a fatal navigational error in the belt." Twined with him, Mara paused, closing her eyes, quieting breathing that had become shallow and quick.

The heady experience was having a dizzying effect on him as well. For a shattering split second, Luke considered wildly the advisability of violating public decency laws in the middle of a crowded restaurant. A measure of controlled intensity returning, he sensed again the renewed interest of the waiter and the man's tentative Force probe. Time was running out. Cupping Mara's face in both hands, he kissed her temple, the tops of lidded eyes, asking softly, "What are they talking about now?"

Through a shivering sigh, she murmured, "He hopes we try to rescue Borkin and take Kyle with us. Pellaeon says they might even get lucky and hit us at the port; but that it won't matter. Nothing fancy this time, just blow us out of the sky."

Luke tilted her head down, whispering, "We need to go, have to find Kyle, get Borkin out, and I'm getting worried about the waiter.

Opening her eyes, Mara took in the waiter with a glance and nodded toward an exit behind the stage. "Back door?"

They left credits on the table, and arm in arm, eased their way slowly across the dance floor, Mara continuing a quiet monologue about armaments and hardware. Once behind the stage, Luke dropped the illusion, and they slipped out the door.

The back door led directly into the opened end of the kitchen's large, odorous trash dumpster parked in the darkened alley behind the restaurant. Littered with slippery squished food stuffs, bursting trash bags, and broken bottles, it was, to Luke's mind, the absolutely fitting conclusion to their bizarre dance. Stumbling behind Mara into the dumpster, Luke snagged her about the arms, bringing her around, determined to resolve, at last, what it had taken them ten years to reach.

Mara, however, had a different agenda. She flew at him, letting lose the rage she had dared not betray before, slamming him into the rough hewn side of the dumpster. As she pinned his shoulder to the wall, Luke caught her at the waist, holding her at bay.

"What the hell were you trying to pull?" Her voice was low, intense. "Split concentration exercises?" Mara delivered another rough jab. "Adding verisimilitude?" She smacked him against the side of the dumpster again. "What kind of an idiot are you? I never would have thought you to be the sort to play it so close to the edge Skywalker."

"You thought you were the only who likes it dangerously? You just bring it out in me."

She nodded, receiving some anticipated confirmation in his answer. "I thought there were certain lines we weren't going to cross." Mara leveled another aggressive shove, driving him back. "I thought," she growled through clenched teeth, "we had an agreement."

He tried drawing her closer, "I decided to alter the contract."

Mara halted the advance, locking her right arm at his shoulder, then tightening her hand to a bloodletting grip. "As a rule, I don't reopen bargaining on a finished contract. What's happened to that Jedi Master constancy?"

Even if he had not expected tender capitulation, he had not necessarily expected to lose his other arm either. "You got what you wanted Mara. The Master's back on Yavin. It's your call. Play it safe with him, or take the risk with whatever is left."

"Clever of you to blame me."

"Isn't it?"

Again Luke sought to narrow the distance between them but Mara held him back, snapping, "Don't rush me."

He contented himself with sliding his hands up her taut sides, sensing her subtle quickening to even that simple gesture. He knew that the line between anger and passion would be a very fine one; Luke was relieved he had finally found the right buttons; the wrong ones had very painful consequences.

Mara bent her arm slightly, leaning in to study his face. "If we're going to renegotiate, I want to get it right. Despite what you thought on the ship, there are still a few things we haven't done."

"There are? Like what?"

He should have known better than to try to disconcert her. Mara planted a breathtaking image in his mind; it was swiftly followed by an equally outrageous one directed into hers.

Mara shook her head with annoyance. "Cut it out, we're getting ahead ourselves here." Her right arm still rigid, she bent it further, allowing him to narrow the magnetic space that separated them. With her free left hand Mara began tracing his profile, saying softly, "You should have learned this by now Skywalker. Like so many other things, you have to lay the right groundwork, master the basics, before moving to more advanced things."

Luke brought his palms up, flat against her supple back, feeling her muscles tense as he leaned her forward. "We've had a decade of groundwork. Are you planning to wait another ten years?"

She stared into him with a fierce, possessive gaze, resisting to the last, still holding the slick, electric distance between them. "I'm not going to start something I'm not prepared to finish." Her free hand began traveling, exploring with a light, sure touch, then moving on, her eyes never leaving his, and not apparently finding the answer she had sought there.

She hesitated, suspended, frowning.

"What is it Master Trader?" He took a secure hold of her, his fingers skimming the light fabric of her dress over creamy skin, knowing to the heartbeat what she was feeling. "Going to try to convince me you don't want to renegotiate?"

Her eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam. "Do you think that's what makes me hesitate, Jedi? That's not it at all." Mara deliberately administered a searing caress, smiling slightly at the sighing reaction she provoked. "See?"

Her eyes closed, breath fluttering with his retaliatory response. "I will renegotiate," she shifted slightly under his hands to enhance the sensation, "when I can get a better bargain." She opened her eyes to burrow into his own. "No, Jedi, I am just wondering if you're really going to be able to close the deal."

"Can you?"

She edged closer, only the tension that attracted and repelled separating them. "You know the only thing I like better than a good contract?"

"What's that?"

"A dare."

Mara abruptly dropped her arm's length barrier. She fell forward, into his arms, tilting her head to accept his challenge and the triumphant kiss that sealed the bargain.

* * *

The conclusion, Chapter 10, Up On The Roof

In which Luke and Mara _**finally**_ close the deal and talk about ships.

"The calming technique, you moron, the damned Jedi meditation you launched into. We were off to what, to my mind at least, was a very promising beginning, and you decide to get in touch with inner peace?"


	10. Up On The Roof

**CHAPTER 10**  
_UP ON THE ROOF AND EPILOUGE_

* * *

In which Luke and Mara _**finally**_ close the deal and talk about ships.

"The calming technique, you moron, the damned Jedi meditation you launched into. We were off to what, to my mind at least, was a very promising beginning, and you decide to get in touch with inner peace?"

* * *

**WARNINGS FOR DUBIOUS CONSENT IN THIS CHAPTER**

I wrote this chapter almost 20 years ago. If I were to write this today, there are many things I would do differently. By and large I have resisted the urge to tinker with the story, its floating point of view, its long digressions, its problematic grammar. It is what it is, with all its bumpy warts and imperfections and the whole point of this exercise was not to change the original but to make sure that Stuff was posted somewhere as a little bit of the fandom history of Luke and Mara that it represents. Though the origins are long since lost in the Internet ether, Stuff was a mechanism by which a lot of people found each other. Today, I count many of those people among my closest and dearest friends.

But…

Those of you who have read the story before, you know what it is coming. For those of you who have not, the scene with Luke and Mara on Coruscant. where they attempt to "close the deal" is really troubling. It is abusive, it is not consensual and reading it today, I find it deeply uncomfortable. As written, Mara could kick Luke's ass from one of the Imperial Palace to another. However, his intrusion is not physical but mental and emotional and for Mara, who has suffered such terrible abuse already, it makes Luke's actions even worse. She permits it, yes, but Luke manipulates her consent and pushes her buttons in such a way that he knows that Mara will not back down from the challenge. Mara gets it back, yes, but balancing the wrongs doesn't make his first intrusion right.

So, I was faced with a decision of either changing it, or leaving it and warning for it. I have chosen the latter. If you want to avoid it, skip from the part where Luke chases Mara from the roof and goes to her door until the scene break.

And whoa... I used to write really, really long chapters.

* * *

One of the kitchen staff opening the restaurant back door to heave a bag of trash into the dumpster interrupted the moment that billions of fans had awaited. Still fastened on Mara's truly wonderful mouth, Luke was thankful for his own split concentration ability, halting the shower of garbage before it pelted them. Typical, just typical.

Speaking between the burning kisses, Mara muttered, "Wasn't there something else we were supposed to be doing?"

She had to repeat the question because Luke had been fingering the place where her dress fastened in the back and contemplating the miracle of gravity.

He finally responded, "Uhhh, going back to the hotel and breaking some laws?"

Mara nibbled at an ear. "No, something else I think, about the space port."

Thinking the clasp would likely defeat him, Luke opted for other alternatives, gratified with both the reaction, and the discovery of some more buttons. "Maybe it was going back to the ship and renegotiating a contract."

Mara tore herself away. "Ship is right, but I think it had something to do with two fools named Borkin and Kyle."

"Who?" Drawing her closer, Luke set out to make Mara forget about them as well.

Sufficiently inspired, she began exacting a little revenge for his explorations in the restaurant, able to check off the list a few more things that it could now be said that they had done. Her list, however, was a long one, and the possibilities so enthralling, Luke suggested, "How about we just call up the ship, blast out of here, and spend the rest of the trip back to Coruscant working on negotiation skills?" Even as he said it, he sighed heavily, and not in response to Mara's delicious talent. He pushed back long red strands that had broken free from their knotted restraint. "First things first right?"

Mara answered with a non sequitur, trailing her fingers up, down and around, searching for some of those elusive scars. "I just realized I have been wanting to do that for some time." She sighed as well. "Guess we could never end a date the way everyone else does. Gotta save the galaxy instead. But ..." Mara pulled his head down to her own, savoring another lingering kiss.

She broke off laughing when she heard, "Forget the galaxy, we've got a contract to settle."

But the needs of the galaxy won out. They untangled themselves, straightened things that had become askew, and picking their way out of the dumpster, headed back in the direction of the hotel. Dalliances along the way proved that groping explorations in semi-public places were not reserved exclusively for the young. Under a tree in the park Luke traced Mara's knife scar to its beginning; in the darkened alcove of a shuttered office, Mara found several of his scars; in an alley near the Spot, Luke confirmed that the safety was still engaged on the blaster in Mara's leg holster; and in the hotel lift on the way up to their rooms, some vigorous activity set off an alarm by mistake. Fumbling with key cards to the rooms proved to be another giggling, taxing task.

In spite of Luke's repeated, persistent efforts, Mara finally got the door open. Bumbling into the room, she swiftly interposed a chair between herself and her pursuer.

"Now, no more of that," she scolded. "We have to save the galaxy first."

"I remember when you used to be fun, Mara."

"I am fun," she primly reprimanded. "I just have my priorities."

"And I just want to rearrange them," Luke replied reasonably.

Mara rolled her eyes, awarding Luke a disdainful snort. She was disheveled, the formerly neat twist of hair bedraggled, and she smelled faintly of garbage. Luke had several ideas, all involving water, that would exalt this already compelling allure to a whole new plane.

Catching his thoughts, she stomped her foot impatiently. "Stop that, it's very distracting. We have to change ..."

"Fine," Luke offered magnanimously. "That's a prerequisite to what I had in mind."

Mara waved imperiously at the unlocked adjoining door. "Go!" Luke went but not before provoked an "ouch" and a mild curse in response to his Force prod.

When Luke ventured back across the unlocked divide a few minutes later, he had already changed, packed up the few remaining things and reviewed the party kit. Mara was seated at the terminal, clad in a boring flight suit. He approached from behind, placing a kiss on the back of her neck.

"I liked the dress better."

"Sorry, it would be a fashion mistake to wear it to the warehouse."

Fondling her collar, he asked, "Copying and erasing the files," thinking there was not much fun in that.

Mara tilted her head back. "How about approaching this as a challenge for you and another split concentration exercise for me. Let's see how long I can keep deleting files."

Mara made it through five whole directories before succumbing to Luke's notions of "fun." With a groan of capitulation, she swiveled the chair back around to face him, and in an ungentle movement, wrestled a willing Luke to the floor.

Luke eventually offered, "You know, I'm sure we'd be more comfortable somewhere else."

He had one proposal, which to her sincere regret, Mara felt compelled to reject. "Oh sure, we'd never get to the warehouse then."

"Remind me again, why are we going there?" Mara directed to him the first thought that came to mind, prompting his laugh, "And that is supposed to make me want to go to the warehouse?"

Mara tossed her head impudently. "You were distracting me again."

"Guess we'd better work on more split concentration exercises then."

She said tartly, "Only if we work on your negotiation skills."

"Always glad to learn what a Master Trader has to teach." He then had to ask, "What are you doing?" What she had been doing was indescribable.

Mischief was the predominate emotion she exuded, but there were others as well. "Are you familiar with the scientific method?"

"Enlighten me."

Mara demonstrated. "You see, it involves an action like ahh, this, causing an effect."

Luke obliged with an appropriate response.

She continued, "Then using hopefully only short term recall, I record the cause and effect, for the purpose of repeating the experiment later."

"I see, it not being scientific unless the cause and effect can be verified by repetition."

Mara nodded solemnly. "Often frequent repetition. Being methodical and very, very thorough are traits desirable not only in trading and negotiations."

For a change, Mara had been propped up over a prone Luke. Her experimentation had brought her to his face, and she paused there. Placing a hand over his lips, she silenced what he was about to say with a quick shake of her head. The power cloaked and revealed, the deadly scarred competence, the latent danger, these were at the heart of her attraction to Luke. Mara knew she held the same fascination for him.

Somewhere in their intricate dance, the shifting power had balanced. It had taken ten years of tense circling to end up on the floor of a cheap hotel in a second rate city on a third rate planet. Ten years. Had it been long enough, Mara wondered. Had it been too long? With one test remaining, she hesitated, doubting whether the Master really was back on Yavin.

Leaning over, finding his lips gently, she then withdrew. "That's only half of it you know." She bent into him again, for the first time since crossing this line, also seeking their Force bond. This, she whispered, this is the other half. Tentatively, she searched for Luke's familiar sense, slowly trickling into his awareness. Expecting to find his customary wall of cool control, she found instead a welcoming, eager warmth that rose to greet her, unfolding like an iron fist or tightly closed flower. The trickle became a flood as she poured into him, flinging open her own barriers to receive the awareness that surged over her, the hard, fervent kiss mirroring the deepening of their union through the Force.

Dimly, Mara wondered, had she ever felt this before, this coupling of mind and body? Had he? She didn't think so.

The pulsing tempo beating faster, Mara pulled away slowly, and very, very reluctantly, allowing the rising heat to cool. Aloud, she finally said, "Sometimes it's worth the wait, isn't it?"

It was almost a physical pang as Mara receded from the void within him that she filled so well. "More like why we didn't try this a lot sooner. I ..."

An uncertain knock at the door interrupted his intended admission. They both simultaneously sought the presence, and both simultaneously came to the same startling conclusion, "Kyle?"

"Mara?" A nervous voice whispered loudly from behind the door. "It's Dazern. Are you there?"

Mara arched an eyebrow, encompassing in the expression, the difficulty of explaining their current arrangement and state. "Yes, Dazern, I'll be right there." They scrambled to their feet, scanning the other for any telltale signs.

Luke observed as Mara headed to the door, "Very convenient. It sure saves us some trouble."

Dazern burst in, excited, slightly weepy, lugging a heavy bag, "I'm so glad I found you." She hesitated, taking in Luke, Mara and the room with an observant glance. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

Mara shook her head, "Of course not. We were actually getting ready to come and find you."

"Really?" Girlish relief and anxiety rushed from her. "Then you know about Witten?"

"What happened?" Luke asked sharply.

Dazern collapsed into a chair, struggling mightily to keep her composure. "I overheard Daddy talking with Mummy. He said that they were taking Witten away." She blinked back tears in stunned amazement. "I heard him say that it was because you were here, Mara. I came as soon as they were asleep."

Luke went to the computer to complete the file deletions, leaving Mara to explain to Dazern, "We heard the same thing tonight. Borkin's being held at the Bacchanalia warehouse. We were coming to get you, then we get him out, then we blast out of here and head back to Coruscant." She placed a hand on Dazern's shoulder. "Are you up for this? Are you ready to leave?"

Dazern wrung her little, perfectly manicured hands. "I couldn't believe they had known all along." Her voice broke, but persevering, continued, "I could never stay now. I brought a few things," she gestured to her bulky bag, "but we can leave even that if we need to."

Mara registered Dazern's unusual appearance, the outfit was definitely not of designer quality, and asked softly, "Dazern, you look like you're wearing something that belongs to a brother."

"It is," she said, wistful and sad. "I didn't know what we would have to do. I didn't have anything very practical." She seemed to understand that with her brother's mechanic's suit, she had just severed all ties with her family.

Mara gave her a quick squeeze; maybe the dingy girl was not beyond redemption. "How did you get here?" The giggle made Mara instantly reconsider that assessment, until she recognized Dazern's deliberate irony.

"I borrowed Daddy's speeder."

She turned back to Luke. "You about done?" He answered by switching off the computer. Mara was already stowing the few belongings she still had in the room. With a trace of regret she carefully folded the dress, feeling the very different scrutiny of both Luke and Dazern.

Ever the eye for fashion, Dazern observed, "Ohh Mara, that's a Brovonri isn't it? I don't wear his designs well, but I'm sure that you do."

Mara said nothing, but felt Luke's rueful humph. As minor compensation, Mara reached for her holster, and made a silent request. Grinning, he approached her intently as she rolled up her sleeve, and offered her forearm. Luke carefully, deliberately strapped on the sheath, then ran a finger lightly along her arm. They could both sense Dazern's confused observation. Mara slipped her blaster into the holster with a rough, "Thanks."

"Anytime."

The comlaser remote in her pocket, and "I think that's about it. So what's our plan?"

Luke began emptying the party kit onto the desk, picking up the extra blaster and making an unspoken query to Mara.

"Dazern," Mara asked, "have you ever fired a blaster before?"

Dazern's vacant stare answered that question. Luke tossed her a comm link, which she promptly dropped, "Put that on."

"Do you think we go to the port first, try to take out whoever's watching my ship?"

"We don't really need to," Luke countered, "if we can bring the ship to us at the warehouse."

"Yeah," Mara argued, "but if the ship suddenly takes off by itself, whoever is there will let the welcoming committee know upstairs."

Dazern squeaked, "Welcoming committee?"

Luke said coolly, "We're expecting to run into some hardware once we boost."

Dazern looked vacant again. Luke explained with more patience then he felt, "Some of the Imperials here have put a guard on Mara's ship. That won't stop us because we can fly her to wherever we are by remote control. The question is what we do about that guard. We also know that once we take off, we are likely to encounter some heavy armed resistance, probably once we clear the net and the belt."

Mara added with a glint, "They think they're going to shoot us out of the sky. You sure you still want in?"

Dazern's eyes widened, never in her short, sheltered life hearing such talk. She was starting to wonder if maybe Luke really was Master Skywalker. And no vid had ever prepared her for someone like Mara. She responded stiffly, "If Witten comes, I do too."

Returning to their plotting, Luke offered a cautious alternative, "Let's go to the port first, see how many are there. If we can take care of them without much fuss, let's do that. Otherwise, leave them and head to the warehouse."

Mara agreed, suddenly thinking of something, "Dazern, have you been to the Bacchanalia warehouse before?"

"Several times." Dazern filled them in as best as she was able, their plan beginning to take shape.

ooOOoo

Daddy's speeder was comfortable, new, and blissfully quiet. Luke pulled off the road within 500 meters of the space port, easing behind a copse of trees. The white moon hung low on a black horizon, only the still sounds of the night heard. Mara lightly placed her hand on top of Luke's on the console.

Dazern intruded from the back seat, "What are you doing?" To her it had seemed that Luke and Mara had inexplicably stopped the speeder on a moonlit night to hold hands with her as chaperon.

"Shhh!" Mara ordered, "we're trying to concentrate." Out of deference to her however, Mara did say aloud, "I got three, how about you?"

"Three as well, plus ..." His voice trailed off.

They both felt the other presence at the same time, "Yur's there." Mara whistled with relief. "He knows we're coming."

"Three what? And who's Yur?"

"There are three guards watching the ship," Luke said impatiently. "Yur is the tech manning the net; he's going to let it down so we can get out of here." To Mara he said, "I think we take them."

Mara was already climbing out of the speeder. Turning to Dazern, she warned, "This is real, it's not a holovid. It's not too late. Once we take care of those guards, there may be no going back for you."

"I'm staying." Dazern would have been more credible if her voice had not cracked a full octave and a half.

Luke sighed, with resignation and little patience. He said shortly, "Then, Dazern, this is what you do. Stay quiet, stay close, stay out of the way. Got it?" Luke fished comm links out of the kit, pitching one to Mara and affixing one to his own collar. He handed the kit to Dazern. "Hold on to that and don't drop or lose it. And don't fiddle with anything in it, it could be the last thing you ever do."

Mara was leaning back against the front of the speeder, bathed in the lovely white light of the moon, checking her blaster power pack. In a ritual ingrained through the years, she then withdrew a tie from her pocket and methodically pulled her hair into a knot, away and out of her face. Recognizing the gesture for the ceremony it was for her, Luke approached as she finished tying her hair back. "Looks like you've done this before."

Mara shrugged, "A few times."

Luke picked up her blaster resting on the speeder, inspecting it, and then adjusted it to a stun setting. The Master asked, "You know why I did that?"

"I should cut your other hand off for messing with my equipment."

"Do you know why," he repeated.

"I really hate that about you," Mara muttered. She raised her voice slightly, "Dazern, there's some rope in the kit, get it out, we'll need it. We can tie 'em up, gag 'em, leave them in the storage warehouse." Nothing further left to do, they grabbed the gear, and made their stealthy way to the darkened port.

Their first catch was keeping a watchful guard at the gate. Luke gently distracted the man, directing his attention everywhere except to Mara, moving quickly behind him, blaster drawn. One minute the guard was alert for sounds in the distance ahead, the next, Mara had her blaster pressed into his back. They relieved him of his comm and blaster, bound him, and left the unfortunate man mute in the shadows of the administration building, Dazern apologizing profusely for their rude behavior.

They made Dazern wait with her new friend, and hugging the dark building, slunk toward the ship.

The remaining two guards were patrolling the Jade's Fire in an alert, circular pattern. Mara heard silently, "Have to bring both down at the same time," and knew what Luke meant. If one saw his companion fall, his reaction might be to notify command. Her eyes flickered to a stack of crates in the corner of the yard, beyond the ship. Luke nodded, and the crates came tumbling down.

The two guards sped toward the disturbance. Luke and Mara followed them, Luke keeping the men's attention fixed on locating the perceived threat in front of them, never anticipating the threat from behind. It was over before it began, both men collapsing from the stun blasts they never even saw coming.

Mara left to fetch the first guard and Dazern, while Luke bound the other two, and lugged the bodies into the warehouse. He very much appreciated the irony of placing the guards among Mara's own now sold cargo stored there.

Mara reappeared with Dazern, dragging the guard between them. "I thought it would be better if he were stunned too," she explained. They deposited the man next to his companions.

As Mara turned, heading out to the ship, Luke prepared to follow her, but Dazern remained rooted, standing in the dark warehouse, staring at him, at Mara, at the unconscious guards.

"Are they dead?" she quavered.

Luke thought of pointing out that one does not usually bind and gag dead people, but instead felt a stab of sympathy for someone so clearly in over her head. "No, the blasters have stun settings. They will be out for an hour or two, wake up with a bad headache, nothing more."

"It happened so fast."

Luke glanced through the door, seeing Mara already at the ship's hatch, apparently working the lock sequence on the Fire. "Dazern, please try to hold it together a little longer. We still have to get Borkin out." He took her hand, and guided her toward the ship.

She followed docilely, asking, "You and Mara have done this before?"

"Every mission is different, but yes, we've been working together for a long time."

Holding his hand like a child she in some ways still was, Dazern whispered, with terrified awe, "Have you killed people before?"

"Yes."

"Has Mara?"

"Yes."

Luke was paying only half attention to the distraught Dazern, trying with the other half to comprehend why Mara was crouched on the ramp of the ship laughing. "What is it?"

Mara shook her head, still chuckling, and gestured to a crate Luke had not seen before, carefully set at the entrance to the ship. She handed him a note printed on worn paper. In Basic it said "Droom Boon Inta." Inside the crate, carefully nestled in packing material were dozens of wine bottles, all with Alderaani labels.

Luke joined her laughter. "Where do you suppose he got them?"

Mara shrugged, mouthing a silent thank you to the generous, fearless mind in the building, "Who knows? But I certainly won't refuse the gift."

She and Luke dragged the crate through the hatch, deposited the extra gear in the cabin and checked in with Artoo who assured them that apart from the men who had patrolled the ship, all had remained undisturbed. They ventured back out into the night to the Bacchanalia warehouse.

They decided to enter the compound where they had before, near the loading docks and warehouse. Like the previous night, all activity was centered in the administration building, and not at this remote, darkened end of the compound. It took Dazern several tries to climb up the tree, and even longer to travel across its limb. Mara was already on the other side urging her down, and Luke waiting in the branch. Promising that she would not fall, that they would not let her hurt herself, Dazern finally slid, scrambled and tumbled to the ground, cushioned by Luke and Mara's joint Force catch which Dazern did not seem to notice.

All on the other side, in her reconnoiter, Mara saw something that had not been there the night before. "Hey Skywalker, look over there."

Numerous crates stacked at the dock indicated Irek had probably not yet returned and that he intended to take cargo when he left. Luke, however, was distracted from investigating further by the feeling of Dazern's shock and incredulity.

"Mara just called you Skywalker," she stammered.

"She has problems with my first name a lot."

"You really are Luke Skywalker?" Dazern whispered.

Luke shrugged, "Jedi don't lie as a rule."

Mara interrupted, quickly, hoping to forestall the total breakdown Dazern seemed on the verge of having. "Dazern, trust me, I've known him a long time. I guarantee by the time we make it back to Coruscant you'll think Skywalker's the most boring person imaginable."

Squatting in the shadows of the storehouse and patting the ground, Mara gestured for Dazern to join her, "So, let's go over again what you know about Bacchanalia."

Luke was already beginning his survey. He quickly found Borkin, and then reached deeper and further to find the building's other occupants and their level of readiness.

Mara stated what his sweep had just confirmed, "There are guard stations at either entrance."

"And Borkin in the middle," Luke added.

"How do you want to get in?"

"There're windows in the middle too."

"Just can't get enough of that breaking and entering can you?" Mara quipped.

The three of them edged along the fence, alert for, but sensing no special scrutiny. Reaching the wall, Mara moved down the side, gingerly trying the darkened windows of the first floor. "Looks like you'll finally get to cut a whole in something, Skywalker."

He ignited his lightsaber. "I've heard there are easier ways to get an office job." With a few swift, but very loud swipes, Luke enlarged a window in the flimsy, prefabricated wall. It seemed, that with this demonstration, Dazern, finally, believed.

"You know, this holovid stuff isn't so bad," Dazern observed as the scrambled through the opening.

Mara curtly ordered her to be silent. Moving through the dark office, Dazern immediately stumbled over a trash can. The metal clanking reverberating in the office, echoing into the deserted hallway.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Dazern wailed.

Mara heard Luke mutter a curse she was certain had not been in his vocabulary prior to this trip. What he lacked in accurate pronunciation, he more than compensated for in delivery. He would, no doubt, improve with practice. "Dazern," Mara said in the low voice she reserved for instilling fear and obedience. "Don't be sorry, be quiet."

The girl nodded mutely, trembling.

Mara joined Luke in his scan.

"Up?" he asked, more for confirmation.

Mara nodded, gesturing, overhead and left, "That way I think." She paused, "Did you get that..."

"Yeah," Luke muttered grimly. "There are patrols too."

"Patrols?" Dazern squeaked. She had observed only that Luke and Mara had been standing at a closed office door, apparently listening for sounds that she, at least, could not hear. "What are you talking about? Up and left where?"

Luke whirled around, saber handle clutched in his fist. "This may seem like a vid to you, but it's not. People are likely to die, us included, if we aren't careful, and quiet."

Mara gestured the girl forward. "There's no one in the hall, Dazern. I want you to look out there, and see if you know where we are, and the quickest way to get," she pointed up and over, "to that corner of the building."

"There are lifts at the end of the hallway..." Dazern murmured, after peeping out into the institutionally white tiled passage. "And halfway down, on the right, I think there's a stairway..." She was able to lead them through a maze of interior offices and hallways to an enclosed stairwell.

Up two flights, Luke tasted the nearby sense of fear, pain, and helplessness he had come to associate with Borkin. At the third floor landing, he stopped. "Here, few meters down on the left and ... stang it all to hell, they've got a guard at the door."

In spite of the tension, Mara poked the swearing Jedi. "Watch your language farm boy, or I'll tell the Master."

"It's the company I've been keeping."

"Dazern," Mara ordered. "Stay low, and go back down that stairway."

The tall girl stood, blinking and frightened, in her ridiculously oversized coveralls. "You aren't leaving me..."

"No, of course not," Mara said abruptly, brushing off Luke's silent whine, "oh pleaaaase, can we?" "There may be some blaster fire, and we don't want you getting hit." Dazern shrank back into the shadows.

Mara whispered, "How do you want to do this?"

He shrugged. "Slam the door."

They stood as sentries, on either side. With a nudge of the Force, the door opened, then quickly shut. Mara felt the guard on the other side of the wall cautiously leave his post, then quicken his pace as he no doubt heard the low, nearby hum of two lightsabers. The door opened. With a snatch of the Force, Mara tried to yank the blaster from the hand that appeared. A lesser grip would have saved his life; as the guard wrestled with the blaster, training it on Mara, Luke swung his blade down.

Hearing the snap, slash and sound of gurgling death, Dazern bolted back up the stairs. Even in the dimness, Mara could see, and certainly feel, Dazern's sickened, stunned revulsion. Mara eased out into the deserted hallway, taking in a chair and a food tray sitting in front of a door. She turned back. "Come on Dazern, it's all right."

Dazern was fixed on Luke, on the cloven body Luke was dragging across the floor, into the deeper recesses of the stairwell. A smear of blood followed.

"He's dead, isn't he? You killed him?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Can you move?" Mara asked with increasing urgency. "We need to get Witt."

She looked into the hallway. "Witt is there?"

It was the only impetus that could have moved the frightened girl. Dazern stumbled forward, passed Mara, racing to the cell. She slid to a stop at the locked door, beating her palms softly on it, entreating, hopeful "Witten, are you there?"

A muffled voice answered, "Dazern?"

She was teary, finally beginning to accede to the shocks of a real live vid, "Witten, it's me." Fumbling at the lock, wild with hope, she threw the door open, and fell into the elusive Mr. Borkin. "Witten!"

A tall, pale, doughy faced man blinked in the blazing light. His arms wrapped around the clinging Dazern, he took in with a confused start, Luke and Mara's approach. "Who...?"

Dazern interrupted excitedly, "It's Luke Skywalker, he's here to rescue you."

Now why, Luke wondered, did that sound familiar?

Mara intruded on the joyous, tearful reunion with a reality check, "You mobile?"

Borkin nodded, saying slowly, "It's, he's, it's been in my mind."

With a worried glance at Luke, Mara put an arm on Dazern's shoulder, gently disengaging her from Borkin. "Dazern, Luke needs to see if Witt's all right."

"But, but, he looks fine," she protested.

"Just let Luke check."

Borkin was staring at them, glazed and stunned, not unlike, Luke saw with a shudder of anger, the men Irek had twisted on Belsavis.

"Master Skywalker?"

The question encompassed volumes. "It's all right, just relax. We know what might have been done to you." Borkin flinched as Luke touched his temple. Luke saw immediately the beginning of the disorienting warping that was Irek's unique trademark. He was able to open and straighten the path, then withdrew, relieved when he felt Borkin's confusion ebb and more clarity return. "That should help. We'll do more once we're out of here."

Luke started, feeling, at the same time as Mara, the leaping alertness around them. Mara yanked the kit from Dazern's shoulder, digging out a blaster for Borkin. "You clear enough to know who the good guys are?"

Borkin nodded, his silent uncertain question so loud, even Dazern understood. "That's Captain Mara Jade." Even if Dazern did not know who and what Mara was, Borkin did, he registering the same surprise that had so mystified Pellaeon. Borkin knew he did not merit a rescue by Jedi Master Skywalker and Captain Jade.

"I think someone found the hole we opened in the wall," Luke said. He could feel the pressure of the pursuit bearing in on either side of them. "They're massing at either end of the building, and going to sweep through it."

The four pelted back to the stairwell. Hurtling down the stairs to the first floor, Luke and Mara stopped so suddenly, Dazern nearly ran into them. They both had that focused quiet look again Dazern didn't understand.

She whispered to Borkin, "They're doing it again."

Borkin whispered back, "They're Jedi. They're using the Force."

"Ohhhhhh."

Borkin said what Luke and Mara had just discerned, "The most direct way out is that way, to the right. But we'll have to get passed the guard station to do it."

They all spun around, hearing shouts and movement echoing behind them.

"Guess we go right then," Luke said. "Can you get us out of this maze?"

Borkin nodded with more confidence than Luke felt.

Mara was already affixing one of their charges to the wall. "It's on a thirty second delay. It'll keep some of 'em from coming at us from behind."

They sprinted down the corridor, Dazern squealing as the building rocked with the explosion. She and Borkin were nevertheless good guides, leading them rapidly through the labyrinth of offices and corridors, ever closer, Mara and Luke felt, toward a massing of tense energy. Borkin was moving so quickly, he whipped around a sharp right corner before Luke could get out his warning. Blaster bolts whizzing overhead, Borkin spun back around, and with Luke and Mara, threw himself to the floor. Dazern screeched again and Mara grabbed her by the collar, roughly shoving her against the wall.

"Quiet, stay low." To Luke she asked, "About twenty or so right?"

"Yeah. Borkin, the door's just past them, isn't it?"

"About twenty meters or more of corridor, big foyer, the guard station and the exit."

Seeing Mara pull a concussion grenade out, Luke grabbed her arm. "No. Use the gas."

"I..."

"Don't make me explain, you know why."

She jerked free of him. "I was GOING to, Jedi." She slapped the gas canister into his hand, then turned away abruptly to hand out the masks to Borkin and Dazern.

Luke lobbed the bomb gently into the corridor. As the canister began spewing its noxious contents, he used the Force to roll it down the corridor and into the foyer. They could hear the coughing, sputtering curses. Luke going first, lightsaber drawn, they moved cautiously into the open corridor. It was littered with the gasping bodies of darkly uniformed, heavily armed men. Grabbing Kyle by the hand, Borkin followed Luke, running toward the door, Mara right behind them.

At the building entrance, Mara withdrew her comlaser remote. Concentrating on the controls, she muttered to Luke, "Better try to seal them in there, we might still get company from the other side before the ship gets here."

Luke plastered a charge to the door jam with a minute delay and herded Borkin and Kyle outside into the compound. The four of them clustered under the marginal cover offered by a stack of shipping crates and a loader. With a boom, the charge went off, collapsing the entry way of the building in a pile of smoking prefabricated metal and glass.

"How long Mara?" It was time to get the hell out of there.

"Ship's already fired up." She gave him a brief distracted smile, "Looks like Artoo's been showing initiative again."

They could already see the snub nosed craft gracefully lumbering toward them, and none too soon. From the far end of the building, the other half of the guard contingent began pouring out. "Bring the ship down between us and them if you can," Luke shouted over the din.

Mara nodded absently, moving the tiny control. As difficult as this was, it would be a whole lot harder if Artoo were not interfacing with the guidance system. She owed the little droid a nice tune up.

The guards on the other side were turning their attention to the ship now looming overhead, with a roar of the repulsors, beginning to set down in the yard. One man, on the far side, leveled a volley at the ship. Only smoky char remained after the Fire's automatic return system shot back. Mara glanced up at Luke and Borkin, "Lesson, don't shoot unless you know you're not gonna hit the ship."

The Fire touched down, close, but still over 100 meters of open space separating them from the opening side hatch. On the far side, twenty or more of the Bacchanalia guards had taken cover under whatever the port had to offer and began systematically raining a torrent of blaster fire on them. Luke shouted to Borkin, "We'll cover, you two get to the ship."

He and Mara emerged first, lightsabers drawn, deflecting bolts, shielding Dazern and Borkin as they sped to the opened hatch. Borkin, unwisely, was trying to run, cover Dazern, aim and fire his blaster at the same time.

They all felt the icy shock at the same moment. Still closing the open, dangerous distance to the safety of the ship, Luke felt Borkin's gasp of fear and Mara cringe as a cold malevolence settled on them from above. Irek had returned. Beating back the furious fire, Luke snapped a mental barrier into place, sensed Mara do the same, and then tried to extend his mental defense to encompass the vulnerable Borkin. Too late, he felt Irek's malice turn on Borkin, battering him with a physical blow. Sinking to his knees, and almost bringing Dazern down with him, Borkin's blaster shot went wild, hitting Mara in the leg. Mara dropped with a roll and a shower of curses.

Through the haze and smoke, Artoo thundered down the ramp, claw extended, speeding toward Borkin. Dazern was on her feet, and with Artoo, they dragged the inert, hapless man into the ship. Still covering, Luke ran to Mara, reassured only that someone seriously injured would not be swearing so profoundly. He grabbed Mara by the collar, she already stumbling to her feet. They both sprang back instinctively, Mara landing hard on her injured leg as the ground exploded in front of them. Under a shower of fire, they ran up the ramp. Luke slapped the control, and the hatch snapped shut.

Mara was already limping forward, trailing blood in her wake, "I'm gettin us outta here, check on Borkin, then get to the top gun."

In a wretchedly disorienting moment, Luke suddenly remembered from his earlier vision, the smell of burnt flesh, never imagining it could have been Mara's. Dazern was weeping on the deck, Borkin, unconscious, in her arms.

Luke stumbled over to them, as Dazern wailed, "Is he dead, oh Luke, can you save him?"

As the ship lifted, Luke knelt beside the still, pale form. Borkin was alive, but . . . Luke reached gently into the buffeted, stunned mind, easing the swelling and trauma. He felt a sigh escape Borkin. "He's sleeping now. Come on, help me get him into a med bay." Together they carried Borkin to the bay, and strapped him in.

He then hauled Dazern forward. "You're going to sit up in the cockpit with Mara okay? But we're in for a rough ride, and she'll need to concentrate, promise me you won't say anything, or bother her?"

Dazern snuffled, wiping tears away with the back of her hand, "We still have to fly through the belt don't we?"

"I'll do everything I can for Witt; but we have to get into clear space first, O.K.?"

As they rushed into the cockpit, Mara was having a heated discussion with Yur, "Repeat Tirgu Control, this is Jade's Fire, lower shield at my mark 00..."

Luke heard Yur's very convincing voice cut in. "Negative Jade's Fire. You do not have clearance, return immediately for questioning."

Dazern belted herself in as Mara made the persistent request to Yur again, gesturing Luke to her detection screen. There, a blue blip, a few kilometers ahead, was Irek, running as fast as his light ship would take him.

Luke looked down and saw Mara's oozing right leg; she had torn a piece from her flight suit and wrapped it tightly around her leg, just above the knee. With a jerk of her thumb up, he heard, even as she made another request to Yur, "Shields' powered, guns' fired up, I'll get us through, you take care of him."

Luke rested a hand on her shoulder, giving her light squeeze, then turned and ran to the top gun.

On his way up, he heard Mara say grimly, "This could get real interesting. Even if Yur lowers the shield for us, if Irek raises it before we're through, we'd never know what we hit."

The atmosphere rapidly faded to the black of space, and the shield ahead. Settling into the gun and the Force, Luke reached out, finding that gibbering, twisted mind only a short distance away. "Irek," he reasoned, "we can help you." Luke heard only mocking laughter, and felt Irek again try to bear down into his own mind. It was the weak, unskilled malicious attempt of a child that Luke blocked easily.

Mara, in addition to piloting and carrying on a convincing argument with Yur, was attuned to his connection with Irek. He felt her accelerate, moving closer to that speck fast approaching the net that could ensnare them both. Irek turned on her, but even with her other preoccupations, Mara brushed Irek aside, almost as an insect. She jeered, "Sorry little one, you'll have to do better than that."

They both felt the gush of fear and loathing. Never before feeling such putrid spite, Luke wondered if maybe Mara was right; maybe some were too vile to ever find the light. Unlike his own father, Irek had never known anything but the quick and seductive path. Even Palpatine probably did not begin his life as evil. Still ... "Irek, there is another way."

In the visual tracker, Luke saw Mara pull closer. "How close do you think I need to be to get through same time he does?" she asked.

Luke responded tightly, "On top of him." The forces shoved him further into the seat as Mara pushed even closer. She was less than 1,000 meters from Irek, and the net, not much further than that from him, was still up.

"You've gottta be ready to get him," Mara whispered. "I'm showing a whole lot of hardware, just outside the belt. They're waiting for us."

Suddenly Luke felt it, as much as saw the change on his instrumentation read. The net was down. Mara surged forward, the ship responding like a running hunter, chasing after the craft growing larger in Luke's sights. And beyond the net, an expanse of spinning rock. As they hurtled past the barrier, Luke heard softly a voice he knew must be Yur's, "Droom boon Luke, no cazut i shtea."

Irek and Mara both reached for the same thread to guide them out of the belt. Concentrating on Irek's own ship, and how to disable without destroying it, Luke was only able to offer half his concentration to Mara. As before, they found the thread, and with the power Luke lent Mara's vision, the path opened up, wild and complex, but very clear. Before, they had followed the signal to Tirgu; this time they followed the warped, darting mind of Irek.

Twice, so close, even amid the field, Luke felt he could have reached, and possibly disabled Irek. The belt however, left too many variables. A damaged ship would be pulverized.

Mara was arrowing through the field not with the thrill and daring of their first trip, but with grim, unrelenting determination. Luke dared not disturb her intense focus. Time seemed suspended as she impossibly spun and plunged, finally thrusting through to the trap that awaited them on other side. Luke heard Mara's impetuous cry, in his head, "Get him, get him before he jumps, we'll lose him."

Luke was ready even as she said it, taking a deep breath, searching through the Force. He again found the starboard engine of Irek's light freighter, envisioning the gun blasting that engine, disabling the ship, "I'm sorry Irek, but we can help you." Luke gently squeezed the controls, only to see the bolts whiz harmlessly past as Mara threw the Fire into an astonishingly wild upwards spin. He heard another string of profound swearing, and looking at his own detector display in the turret, saw why.

He spotted five short range fighters already screaming toward them, and then felt Mara's visceral reaction. "There's the Interdictor, two Star Destroyers, 'nother capital ship."

Pellaeon had been right. Their fleet was not wasting any time with fancy maneuvers and began pounding the Fire mercilessly. The ship jolted, taking powerful hits to the fore shields. "Mara ..." Luke warned. Luke never even finished the sentence, Irek's hysterical laughter abruptly died as the view before him dissolved into the lines of hyperspace. Knowing when to fight and when you are hopelessly outgunned, Mara had jumped.

He tore back down to the cockpit. Dazern had, true to her word, remained mute. "Get back to the med bay," he ordered. "You need to be with Witt."

With a look at Mara, slumped and glazed in her pilot's chair, Dazern nodded and fled aft.

"Come on Captain, let's get you cleaned up."

As they limped back to her cabin, Mara remarked through gritted teeth, "So Skywalker, if every date with you ends like this, it's no wonder you can't keep a girlfriend."

With a nudge, Mara's cabin door slid open, and Luke eased her onto her bunk, "Lemme go get a med pac, I'll be right back."

By the time he returned, Mara had already stripped off her makeshift bandage and her flight suit, and was wrapped in a blanket. Sure, Luke thought absently, very provocative, but for the gouging wound in her thigh. "This'll hurt like hell," he warned before applying the burn antiseptic.

Mara nodded, clenching her jaw, "I know."

Luke cleaned the wound. It was shallow, but a full eight centimeters of singed flesh. He affixed a synflesh patch, a pain blocker and, for good measure, an anti-infective.

"Better?"

She nodded, reaching to squeeze his sticky medicinal hand, "Thanks. Guess it's just one more scar. How's Borkin?"

"Hard to say, sleeping now. I'll check in on him once you and the ship are settled."

"You didn't get Irek did you?"

Luke grimaced, with a shake of head, "Shot went wide when you went into the roll."

"I'm not sure what we could have done with him, anyway. You saw what we were up against." She yawned, the narcotic already beginning its work.

"It was worth a try. We did the best we could."

"You shuddna ordered me like that, ya know," she mumbled, still sharp.

"I know. Sorry. You were right, Mara."

A faint drugged smile pulled across her face and she dropped into her pillow. With some regret and wistfulness, Luke stroked her cheek lightly, "Couldn't end a date like everyone else could we?" He carefully loosened the tie that contained her unruly hair, running his fingers through the silky mass.

Through a sigh and another yawn, before nodding off, Mara murmured, "We've waited this long, we can wait few more days. Better lay in for Coruscant."

He covered her with another blanket, and dimmed the light.

Dazern was waiting anxiously in the corridor, "Is she all right?"

"Yes, took a burn to the leg. She's on a pain patch now, and sleeping. She'll be out for a while, then we'll see if we can Force heal the wound." Luke glanced at the chron running down in the cabin. They would be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes. "Let's go forward, we need to do a course correction, check in with Coruscant. Then I'll see Witten." Feeling exhaustion begin to set in, Luke was thinking this was the longest, most eventful dinner date of his entire life.

Mara had obviously made the run from Verrat to Coruscant before, for the navicomputer spewed a course that was as quick as it was obscure. It estimated ten plus standard days to Coruscant.

As Luke set in the course, Dazern sat quietly, just watching, finally asking, "Where did you learn all this stuff?"

"Growing up, I was able to fly some, then the Rebellion. I've done a lot of flying."

Before jumping into hyperspace again, Luke dialed up Coruscant Control, giving them his own, now usually unused recognition clearance code, and delivering the innocuously brief message that all was well and their eta. Never having had the opportunity before, he did inspect Mara's communications array more closely and wondered just how many top secret military procurement licenses had been forged for her to get what she had. After a moment's thought, he added what he last remembered was the code for communications likely to be monitored. Dazern was absolutely starry eyed by the time they made the jump.

Luke swiveled to stand. Now he thought wearily, to check on Borkin. Dazern was still looking ahead with wonder at the star lines. She said quietly, "I thought we were going to die. I felt so helpless." He sighed, recognizing the need for some healing here as well, and sunk back down. "Mara and I have been doing this for a long time. And it's what Witten has been trained to do."

She sniffed softly, "I don't know how to do any of the things you and Mara do."

He paused before responding, thinking of what Tirgu had taught him. "Don't try to compare yourself to us. Most people don't know how to pilot ships, or use lightsabers. They go their entire lives never firing a blaster or blowing up a building. You did as well as your experience and training permitted, better even. If you want to learn more, so you feel less helpless next time," not that he thought there would be a next time for Dazern, "Mara or I could teach you some basic things. I'm sure Witten could work with you as well."

"Really?" She was so young, this child in her brother's clothing.

"Really." Luke stood. "Let's go see how Witt's doing."

Witt was sleeping, not unconscious, Luke was gratified to see. Gently probing, he eased the pressure he felt, softened the blunt blows Irek had inflicted. As he receded from the healing trance, Borkin awoke, confused, dazed. Motioning Dazern to take his place, he then quietly withdrew, not wanting to be the interloper.

Luke heard, felt, and envied their emotional, happy, seemingly very sincere reunion. Seeking to avoid it, he wearily wandered into the main cabin, flopping down on the sofa. With two injured crew and one incompetent, he didn't think he should be napping on the watch. Vowing to get up and start some tea, he figured he would do that in just a few minutes.

Luke woke with a start, surprised to see Borkin standing over him.

"I'm sorry Master Skywalker, I did not mean to disturb you." Borkin was stiffly formal and deferential, a seemingly inappropriate response given that he was standing and Luke lying flat on the couch.

Luke struggled to sit up, half his mind still in the land of deep and pleasant dreams. "Please, skip the honorary titles. How are you doing?"

"I'm much better thank you. Dazern said that you healed me. I owe you and Captain Jade something I could never repay."

Luke waved a hand irritably; he was not in the mood for fawning adoration. "It's just something Mara and I do."

Borkin asked hesitantly, "How is Captain Jade?"

"I'll check on her now," Luke said, standing. "And then I'll probably get some rest. Can you pilot?"

Borkin shrugged. "I did very well in the NRI pilot training program."

Luke hoped he concealed his snort of disgust. "Wake me or Mara if anything comes up." Assuming that admonition would not prevent the youngster from trying to foolishly redeem himself in the unlikely event of an emergency, and certain that Borkin was at least familiar with Mara's reputation, he added, "This is Mara's ship. If anything happens to it, she'll kill us both. I'm not joking here, if anything comes up, get one of us."

Luke headed aft, easing into Mara's room. Groggy, but feeling his approach, she reached out to draw him in. Mara had at some point donned a sleeping shift, and Luke carefully lifted it away to inspect the wound on her leg. It seemed clean, without any discharge, heat or swelling. In fact, it looked remarkably better. Mara's mumbling confirmed his suspicion, "Tried Force healing."

As he got up to leave, she murmured again, "No, stay," and sliding over, made room for him on the bunk. Luke's last thought before drifting into utter, blissful unconsciousness was whether even married people slept together this often.

Apart from the close quarters, the trip was mercifully uneventful. Dazern and Borkin spent most of the time together, watching vids, reading from Mara's book tape collection, or sequestered in the cabin they shared. To the extent they were able in the confines of a ship, Luke and Mara gave the young lovers the space and privacy they so clearly wanted.

For their part, Luke and Mara spent most of the trip together in the cleared out cargo hold. Lightsaber practices, dancing, and drinking games kept them occupied. They made a considerable dent in Yur's parting gift to them. By mutual, albeit occasionally strained consensus, they agreed to wait on contract negotiations and deal closings until Coruscant. Even if the younger pair had no such inhibitions, their presence only a few meters away made any other resolution hopelessly awkward and uncomfortable for the older, unacknowledged pair.

To the embarrassment of both Luke and Mara, Borkin began instructing Dazern in the true recent history of the galaxy, pouring through Mara's book tape collection and then comparing the Rebellion, Thrawn and other histories to the Tales of the Jedi holovids. Although fun to chortle over when it was just the two of them, watching those episodes with others was simply too mortifying for Luke and Mara. Whenever they heard the familiar theme music, Luke and Mara would beat a retreat to the hold, remaining there until it was safe to venture out again.

Dazern also persisted in her desire to be more helpful and less helpless. First Borkin, and then Mara began taking her through the ship's principal systems. Thumps and crashes reverberating from the common area down to the hold became a signal that Dazern was receiving instruction in hand to hand combat. Luke found Mara's interest in the girl intriguing and amusing, suspecting that Mara was doing everything possible to inculcate awe. It all seemed harmless enough until one morning when he wandered into the cabin and found Mara instructing Dazern in the care and firing of pocket blasters. Seeing Dazern with even an unloaded blaster was chilling.

More disturbing was the following morning when Luke found Dazern providing instruction to Mara. Entering the cabin he was assaulted by a foul, alcohol smell. "What is that?" His mind told him that he could not possibly be seeing what his eyes perceived.

Mara looked up from her painstaking task, "Dazern's showing me how to trim my cuticles, file my nails and put finger nail polish on." She extended her pinkish tinted nails toward him, asking in a tone Luke could not readily classify as ironic, "What do you think?"

"Uhhhhh, that's interesting Mara." Luke fled to the hold. There were some things he was definitely happier not knowing about people in general, and women in particular. He vowed to extricate Mara from Dazern's unwholesome influence as soon as possible.

They broke orbit around Coruscant as scheduled, and on the orders of the Chief of State herself, were immediately cleared. They descended slowly through the crowded Coruscant airspace, finally settling lightly on the pad of the Palace security port.

Through the view, Luke could see Han, Leia, the kids, and a small cluster of what he usually classified as "Coruscrats."

Mara observed, "Looks like they've spared us the worst of the NRI types until later."

It was mid-afternoon Palace time, and, if the past was any indication, it would be a longer day still. They both knew that mind numbing briefings, debriefings, and rebriefings were to follow. Mara called into the comm to their passengers in the main cabin, "We're down. Welcoming committee is waiting."

Mara swiveled to Luke, placed her hands on his knees, then slid forward, "We still planning on renegotiating?"

Over a week of enforced self-denial had taken a toll on them both. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer, planting a hot, breathless kiss on her neck, "I think we've had enough groundwork Captain."

Mara tore free with a glance at his approaching family. "Let's get this over with. The sooner we get the briefing done, the sooner we close the deal."

They headed aft, Luke helping Dazern and Witten, while Mara released the hatch. The ramp had barely touched the tarmac before Jacen and Jaina were bouncing up it. Mara stooped down to give Jaina a hug, and then stood, thinking Jacen would prefer a more grownup welcome.

She held out her hand. "Hello Jacen," then squinted slightly, "I think you've got the benefit of another centimeter or five haven't you?"

Jacen puffed himself out proudly and shook her hand, nodding. He was always a bit tongue-tied around Captain Jade.

As his parents approached, Jacen glanced around Mara. "Where's Uncle Luke?"

"In the cabin, you can go on in." With a smirk at his sister, Jacen bolted into the cabin. Jacen had evidently either outgrown the crush or had even more pressing business with his Uncle.

Mara made her way down, limping slightly, with Jaina trailing. Leia stepped forward to greet Mara formally, taking in the limp with a sweep, "Welcome back Mara. We once again are in your debt. Do you need meds?"

"No, thanks. I took a slight burn in the leg, courtesy of our NRI agent. Nothing serious." She nodded to Han as Luke, Artoo and Jacen appeared, Borkin and Dazern behind them.

Han took in the solicitous Kyle. "Who's that?"

"She was the NRI agent runner."

Han and Leia both raked over the girl with a perceiving look, Leia sighing, "There have already been several resignations in NRI Covert over this debacle. I imagine after what you and Luke have to say, I'll be calling for a few more."

Luke joined them, with a warm hug for Leia, and a rough arm clasp for Han. Mara overheard Leia's silent inquiry to Luke, "Everything okay?"

Luke laughed, hugging her again, answering aloud, "Fine, Leia. It's good to be back."

Luke made the necessary introductions, and then before Kyle and Borkin could become completely overawed with the stature of their welcoming committee, the Coruscrats, evidently some lower level NRI functionaries, whisked them away.

During the kids' demand and receipt of a greeting from their Uncle, Leia had been observing her eldest children dubiously. Jaina was hovering around Mara, and Jacen orbiting Luke. The twins had been acting oddly over the last three weeks, and had become even stranger, and more secretive when they learned that Mara and Luke were coming to Coruscant. Han, at first attributing the unusual behavior to their worship of Mara, had tried questioning them, but it was clear that a conspiracy of silence was at work. Leia glanced at Han, knowing he was seeing the same; he shrugged at his wife, whatever was eating the kids, the parents would find out soon enough.

Mara said to Luke, "Why don't you all go in. I can gather the gear, close down." She turned to Leia, "We'll be tied up with NRI the rest of the day?"

Leia was apologetic. "I know you all must be tired, but if we could prevail on you just a bit longer."

"It's all right Leia, we were expecting it," Luke answered.

Han and Jaina volunteered to stay, Jacen and Anakin following their mother and uncle into the Palace.

Once in the ship, Jaina set off to explore the cabin and hold. As soon as his daughter was out of audio range, Han asked in a quiet aside to Mara, "How's Luke doing?"

Her fierce and completely unexpected glare pined Han to the bulkhead. "He's fine, Solo," she finally said curtly. "You can ask him yourself."

"What about Callista? Did he tell you what happened?"

"Callista's married. She's living on Chad, has a daughter."

Jaina rejoined them, forcing Han to abandon his questioning. It was clear to him that there was a whole lot more that Mara was not saying, and he found this reticence an intriguing departure from her normal bluntness. "So what all have you and Luke been up to?"

His not-so-innocent query yielded a flush and a jump he would have never expected from the ever composed Mara Jade. This, Han thought, was getting more and more interesting.

Mara turned away, with a gesture he recognized immediately as a stalling retreat. Is she losing it Han thought, or was he just getting better at reading her? She began rummaging through a small crate, pulled out a bottle and tossed it to him. "Here you go Solo, a gift from me."

Han fumbled with the bottle, and then, reading the label, exclaimed, "Mara, I could have dropped this. You know what this is worth?"

"Wouldn't have mattered if you had," Mara said very casually. "I've got a whole crate of the stuff. I had more, but we drank a lot of it during the jump."

Han looked again at the label, and then comprehension dawned. "A whole crate?" He started chuckling, "So what's the scam?" For someone who had been out of it a long time, settling down in the suburbs with a wife, three kids and an office job, he could still recognize a fraud when he saw one.

"Tirgu Imps are bottling the wine, slapping Alderaani labels on it and selling it. They've been at it about four months, maybe more."

Han whistled admiringly, "That's inventive. Bet they've made millions, but that's no doubt what you and Luke will tell us about in excruciating detail. I'm sorry I never thought of something like this before."

He caught Mara's serious expression, "What are they doing with all the credits?"

Mara paused for effect, "Empire building. Daala and Pellaeon are buying a navy for Irek."

"Solving two problems at once are they?"

Jaina, having thoroughly explored the cabin came up to Mara and tugged on her sleeve. Mara bent down, asking very seriously, "Yes, Jaina?"

"Dad said that you had my picture in the cockpit. Can I see it?"

"You sure can, honey. You know where it is."

Jaina gave a sideways glance at her father that neither he nor Mara missed. Han instantly deduced the warning signals and asked with all the weight of parental authority, "Jaina, what is it?"

Jaina gulped, "Dad, there's something I want to ask Mara," she whispered, "in private."

Mara cocked her head at Han, awaiting the parental arbitration. Maybe this is what all the secrets have been about, Han thought. "Ok, but if Mara thinks it's important, you're going to have to tell me too."

Mara took Jaina's hand, and they headed to the cabin. Jaina was thrilled, climbing into the copilot's seat and in a game they had played after Selonia, she identified and then "helped" Mara shut down the systems and controls. "So, Jaina, what's the secret?"

The little girl was fingering the hyperdrive control with a stubby hand. "Well, I..."

Mara tried gently to encourage the disclosure. "Yes?"

Jaina began again, "I, well, Jacen and me wanted to know if you and Uncle Luke have decided whether you are right for each other."

Mara stared gape-mouthed at the serious little girl, finally blurting, "What?!"

"On Tales of the Jedi..." Jaina began.

"Solo!"

Han pelted into the cockpit, and faced an abashed Jaina and a pale Mara. "Jaina, would you please tell your father what you just asked me?"

Jaina began quietly, very nervous. "I asked Mara whether she and Uncle Luke had decided if they were right for each other."

Mara's stern demeanor stifled Han's bark of laughter. "It's something you saw on the Tales of the Jedi holovid right Jaina?"

As Jaina nodded, a wide amused grin spread across her father's face. Mara chided reprovingly, "I don't think that series is appropriate for youngsters."

Han gave his daughter a shrewd stare. "Lando's been letting you watch them, hasn't he?"

"Yes, Dad."

Han directed to Mara, "You know the episode she's referring to?"

"It's the one about Centerpoint, right?" Han nodded in confirmation as Mara continued grimly, "I'd forgotten all about it. But we saw it during the jump on the way to Verrat."

It was now Han's turn for amazement. "You mean Luke knows about these?"

Mara's mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. "He almost had a heart attack."

Han laughed, "I'll bet. How'd you keep out of them until now?"

"I paid the producer off, but he breached our contract. I'm planning to haul his ... to sue him before the Trader Tribunal."

Han began slowly, barely concealing his intense enjoyment in the revelation, "I was going to tell you and Luke, the odds are running about 5 to 2 right now in favor."

Even Han Solo quailed at the steel he heard in Mara Jade's voice, "Odds?"

"Whether or not Captain Mara Jade and Master Luke Skywalker will, ahhh," Solo paused with a significant look at his attentive daughter, "rather, what, their 'destiny' will be." Han lightly accented the word.

Jaina interjected enthusiastically, "Lando wanted me and Jacen to try to find out from you and Uncle Luke what your destiny is."

"He did, did he?" The tone made clear that Mara would be exacting a heavy price from Lando.

"Lando's operating one of the biggest betting pools here in the City. He's got a lot of credits tied up in the outcome of that episode. It runs here tomorrow night."

Jaina added excitedly, "And Dad, Jacen and I and all our friends have been helping too."

Now Han was worried, "What have you been doing?"

"There's a number you can call, and help decide whether Uncle Luke and Mara are right for each other, so we've been calling on the holonet in the Communications Center after school."

This time Mara stifled a laugh. "It's a 900 number Solo. And it's not cheap."

Han ran a hand across his face. He had been wondering what the twins and their friends had been doing the last three weeks in the Comm Center. "How many calls have you made Jaina?"

"Ahhh," Jaina thought carefully. "Jacen and I made at least one each a day, and our friends have called too."

Han reached for his comm link. He could just imagine what next month's bill was going to cost. "I'd better tell Mom right away, and make sure none of your friends get back into the Center."

He noticed the vacant, out of focus look, surprised only that it came from Mara. "She knows, I think Jacen has just asked the same questions to Uncle Luke." Curiouser and curiouser Han thought. Although used to those sometimes disconcerting silent conversations between Luke and Leia, he had never thought Mara to be on that same wave length.

He said sternly to his daughter, "No more holonet access for you or your brother, or your friends, young lady until Mom and I decide what to do about this. Why have you been calling so much? Wasn't once enough?"

Jaina peeped up at Mara before continuing. "The show had said that Uncle Luke and Mara's destinies depended on us. But Jacen and I had different ideas on that. So each time Jacen called, I had to call too, to make sure I canceled out his vote."

"Jaina," Mara asked very, very carefully. "Do you understand what they meant by destiny?"

"We weren't exactly sure. But we asked Threepeio." She communicated clearly her opinion of the nattering droid and his no doubt long winded explanation. "So we asked Lando, and he explained."

Mara said sourly, "I bet he did."

Enjoying Mara's chagrin, and beginning to think that life was imitating art here, Han asked his daughter conversationally, "Jaina, what destinies were you and Jacen voting for?"

"I wanted Uncle Luke and Mara to get married..."

Han didn't need to look at Mara to know what her reaction would be.

Even with the perceptions of a ten year old, her askance shy looks suggested that Jaina comprehended as well that Mara did not welcome this news. "I figured then I'd get to see you more Mara," she offered by way of support.

"But Jacen," Jaina emitted a disdainful, superior snort that Han recognized as a mannerism common to both Leia and Mara. "Jacen didn't want that. He thought Uncle Luke would be mean to you Mara. Jacen's just jealous, that's all."

Han thought Mara was not looking well. Oh, he was relishing this.

Mara spoke to her small admirer, "Jaina, you know the holovid isn't true, don't you? You and your brothers were on Corellia, and you weren't even in the vid. And your Uncle Luke wasn't there, and I was."

Jaina nodded, "I know, but... since" she trailed off, not really having a better explanation than that of the enthusiasm of a little girl.

Feeling a little evil, Han pointed out, "Jaina, just because it's on a vid, doesn't make it so, right Mara?"

Mara concurred with a glare and a firmness Han thought very illuminating, "Absolutely."

Sure Mara, he thought, you just keep telling yourself that.

They gathered the gear and joined the others. Mara had indeed sensed Luke's own shock at the similar, but even more determined questioning by his nephew. Under persistent interrogation, Jacen was able to extort a truthful promise from the Jedi Master not to be mean to Mara. Luke had every intention of doing plenty of things to Mara later; being mean to her was not on the list.

Leia was mortified upon learning of her children's activities, and was anticipating a very awkward interview about the holonet bill with a numbers-crunching Palace internal auditor. She had known about the series of course, and once overcoming her horror at the depictions of her husband and brother, had become a secret fan. She and Han had taken to watching the recordings late at night over a bottle of wine, allowing the wine, the mood and the preposterous hilarity of the episodes to inspire them. They were seldom able to watch an entire show to its inevitable pyrotechnic conclusion. Through appropriate middlemen she and Han had also placed small discrete bets in Lando's pool. She had banked, for very cynical reasons having to do with the morality of the vid producer, on the assumption that the characters' destinies would not take the intimate turn her husband and millions of others had bet upon.

After a brief reunion in the family quarters, the grownups departed reluctantly for what promised to be a long and boring evening.

ooOOoo

The meeting wore on and on. NRI operatives, Leia, Han, Borkin, the entire upper echelons of the New Republic intelligence apparatus quizzing them in exhaustive, excruciating detail. Who did they see, what happened, why, how do you know, where did you get it. Then an even longer discussion followed of Irek, Roganda, Daala, Pellaeon, and their acquisitions. Apparently not satisfied, the brass insisted on convening the next afternoon to grill them again after the analysts had an opportunity to review the data.

If Mara was as irritated as he was, she gave no sign. Calmly answering, explaining, she comported herself with far more poise than Luke could muster. The warmth, the humor, even the tension that bound them seemed to have evaporated. He knew this Mara Jade very well; the trader, the commando, the smuggler. They had been sitting across tables just like this one for the last ten years. The details and bad guys changed, but their script in these interminable briefings did not.

He wondered for the thousandth time if Leia had a hand in their room assignments. It was uncharitable, but given Leia's dubious views of Mara, not unthinkable. Luke had returned to his old apartment; it may have just been a coincidence that Mara's rooms were at the opposite end of the Palace. Luke did not think it was an exaggeration that a full kilometer of winding corridor separated them. They still had a deal to close, and Luke was rapidly losing patience with the delays.

He had tried as cautiously as possible to reach Mara silently, but Leia seemed too attuned to permit that private exchange. Her solicitude was wearing thin. Mara made no attempt, indeed hardly looked at him, everything wrapped tightly in her competent calm.

This was ridiculous, he was behaving like an adolescent. Mara caught his eye briefly, nodding imperceptibly, evidently agreeing with his self-diagnosis. He didn't even need to hear her reproach to "Act like a grownup."

He ran through a calming exercise and with the peace it brought him immediately felt impatience ebb. All the Force control he could summon would not, however, alleviate his boredom. Luke was concentrating on dismembering a writing stylus between his fingers when a firm hand on his shoulder started him out of his reverie.

"Hey Luke, meeting's over."

He was profoundly glad it was Han, Leia might very well have picked up a random thought or two he preferred not to share with his sister.

"You okay?"

"Yeah Han, fine, just been a long trip."

Han looked up, seeing on whom his brother-in-law had fixed his gaze. Mara was engaged in a discussion with the NRI chief fraud officer. A knowing grin crossed his old friend's face, "Sure Luke, whatever you say."

Leia's smiling approach interrupted Luke's sour reprimand that Han mind his own business. With her hug, some of his irritation melted.

Leia tucked her arm into his. "Let's go back to your rooms and get caught up."

"Sure, Leia," Luke responded without much enthusiasm

Leia called Mara over, "Mara I just wanted to thank you again, personally for all you've done."

Mara was as nonchalant about the praise, as seemingly about everything else. She accepted the gratitude with a shrug, "I don't know that I'll offer to do it again. You all have obviously not heard the last of that crew, and have got to do something about the NRI's major screw ups. I made a lot of money, settled some old business, renegotiated a contract or two. It was fun."

Luke knew to whom her last two comments were directed. He interjected, "Leia wanted to get together for a while, over in my rooms, you're welcome to join us."

Gods was Mara cool. "Thanks no. I'll turn in, we were really burning the drive to get here. Good night." And with a pivot, she headed down the corridor, without a look back.

Leia had already turned her brother in the opposite direction. Han followed, with a glance at the back of the retreating redhead, chuckling at Luke's obvious predicament. All the Force in the galaxy wasn't going to help a man wedged between two such women.

Han had decided at some point that he really liked Mara a great deal. The lone exception to his now otherwise unqualifiedly high opinion of her was the dalliance with Lando. That relationship, Han thought, had been a bad idea for all concerned, and very uncharacteristic of Mara. He was able to forgive even that lapse in judgment however, thinking he understood both why it had begun, and why it had ended.

Han had weathered Leia's storm when he told her about sending Mara to find Luke. But then Skywalkers in general seemed to have no instinct for what was really good for them, and in the name of stubborn pride had a deplorable habit of studiously ignoring what fortune threw in their paths. And even now, Han was not above tossing a detonator into an ammunition depot just to see what would happen.

It was several hours before Leia and Han finally left. They rehashed everything that happened since he left Yavin, Luke managing to keep his surliness at bay. He filled in some of the details, such as their acquisition of the Bacchanalia data and credit records, the run-ins with Pellaeon, Daala and Irek, the hardware in the belt, and the purloined wine bottles. Luke had the uncomfortable feeling that Han was completing on his own, and with a fair amount of accuracy, his omitted details. He told them about Callista. In hearing but not sharing in Leia's own outrage, came to a better understanding of the place that closed chapter now belonged in his life. It was when Leia began recounting where the kids were off to for the evening that Han's patience ran out.

"Come on, sweetheart. It's already tomorrow, and I at least want some sleep."

Luke almost whistled his relief, but Leia was fully prepared to argue the point, until she yawned in the middle of her objection. She laughed, "I think we have worn you out Luke, too old to be up this late, right?"

Luke thought that this was about the time he and Mara usually began plotting criminal activity, but only nodded his agreement.

Leia gave him a kiss on the cheek, "I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow. We've missed you."

As Han wound an arm about his wife, he turned, and to Luke's dismay, winked and drawled, "'See ya Luke, have a good night."

As he sensed Han and Leia move down the corridor, Luke surrendered to the internal battles, appalled that his distraction had been so evident even to Han and Leia. He threw himself on the bed, and thoroughly disgusted with his ridiculous, immature behavior, went through a full calming regimen and meditation. The frantic pace with Mara had meant no time or opportunity for the solitude he normally enjoyed and relied upon for his stability, for the serenity of mind and purpose appropriate for a Jedi Master.

Alone, really for the first time in weeks, he indulged in the quiet, the focus, the peace of the Force, finding his center of control. The recklessness, his impatience, the rash impulsiveness that had come to dominate him receded. As the dominion over mind and body returned, he began to feel more like the Master of the New Republic Jedi that he knew himself to be.

Firmly in control, he then felt ready to find Mara. He wondered if she was even still awake, the taunt in his head answering that question.

"It's about time, farm boy, did your chaperons finally leave?"

"Where are you?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Where?"

"I'm on the roof, you remember where that is don't you?"

Luke laughed, "What are you doing up there?"

"Seeing the sights, care to join me?" Luke was already out the door, following her sense through the maze of the Palace, as they had followed the signal to Tirgu. "Better hurry," he heard a laugh in his head, "looks like rain."

As Luke moved through the darkened passageways, lifts and stairwells, he felt with every step, mounting excitement and anticipation. By the time he ascended the steps to the door to the roof, he was no longer certain if the emotion was his own, or Mara's. He paused at the door, reaching for and again finding his composure. Even as he did so, the emotion on the other side cooled.

He opened the door and spied Mara sitting on a ledge, in her night shift, bare feet swaying back and forth, hair blown, a small white figure stark against a darkened sky. If he had expected her to greet him with open arms, he was disappointed.

"So what kept you?"

Luke walked over, stopping in front of her. "You know, family business."

"I'll bet. Leia figured that if she kept you up late enough you wouldn't get into any trouble with me."

He did not argue with her, knowing she might be right. "Do you always wander about dressed like this?"

Mara swung her legs, rapping her toes lightly on his knees and shins. "Depends."

"On what?"

Her answer was sly. "Depends on whether I know I won't be disturbed, or if I hope I will be."

He reached up to finger the flimsy fabric at her shoulder. "So which is it tonight?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?"

The self-control he thought he had found threatened to slip away again; with a deep breath he regained a measure of the tranquility.

Mara scowled, looking down at her swinging feet. Wondering at her change, Luke abandoned the strap, looking out over the city before them, recalling their conversation so many years ago.

Picking up his thought, she asked, "Remember the last time we were up here?"

"Sure. It was right after Wayland, you decided to become the liaison to Karrde's alliance. I gave you Vader's lightsaber." He was certain he felt a mental flinch. "What is it?"

"Just something Vader said, that in ten years I've never understood why a Jedi would give someone his father's lightsaber."

"I told you before I don't really know why. I'd nearly been killed with it, I had one of my own, and despite your protestations to the contrary, you had done a lot for me, really for the entire NR. You'd earned the right to wear one."

Her swinging feet bumped against the ledge, the image so deceptively fragile. He tapped her temple, "What's going on in there?"

She laughed lightly. "I dunno. I suppose it's being back up here with you after all this time. I keep trying to remember what I thought then, what I thought of you. I know that even then I thought there was something between us. If you don't mind me paraphrasing a confidence you made to me, I think then, I may have misunderstood the nature of the connection. But ten years later, I'm not any wiser as to what it is."

"I'm afraid I can't enlighten you as to what it is either. I think there was a connection then, I think there always has been. It may just be a function of your own gift in the Force, but I think we will probably always be bound to some extent."

Another frown crossed her face. "Vader again?" She nodded. "He really got to you didn't he?"

Mara's curt "yes," was hostile, and it seemed to Luke, far out of proportion to what he understood had passed between her and his father.

"Why all this introspection?" he asked. "It's very unlike you."

"It is, isn't it?"

Luke brought his hands to her face, staring into those unfathomable eyes, maybe the window to the soul of some, but certainly not to Mara's. She was such a mystery to him.

Hearing the unspoken thought, she asked, "Really? After all this time?"

"Oh yes. More than ever in some ways. I understand some things better now, but there's always something new." With a light touch, he traced from temple to shoulder. "Secretive, elusive, controlled," he paused, smiling slightly at the memory. "Unpredictable." His fingers slipped further down. "Did I include sensual?"

"Uhmmmm, no I don't think you've mentioned that one before."

His hand returned to her shoulder, and began casually touring her bare arm, stopping to fondle the place where her blaster normally rested, "I should mention dangerous as well." Cool fingers slid from her arm to her leg, finding the healing blaster burn to caress the sensitive skin. "All in all, a very appealing combination."

His grazing touch had its intended effect; he was definitely learning that for Mara, proper groundwork was essential to a successful negotiation.

Mara raised her feet, and locking them behind his knees, drew him forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Use some of that long term recall Jedi, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we have a deal to close."

The skies took that unprepossessing moment to shed ominous, heavy drops. Luke did not mind, Mara sleek with rain was even more intriguing than Mara dry.

Mara had other ideas. "Sorry, wet may be your idea of a fantasy, but not mine." She slid off the ledge and into his arms. It was when they reached the door that they realized their error.

This time it was Luke's turn to kick some doors. "It's locked? Well, looks like we stay outside, on the roof, in the rain. Beats the other places we've been."

As the locksmith of the team, Mara began working on the door, leaving Luke to work on Mara. She kept elbowing him as eager hands began a less impeded exploration. Finally exasperated, she delivered a bruising blow to his ribs. "Would you cut it out? I'm trying to concentrate, and unless you ever want to walk again, don't say anything about split concentration exercises."

Luke tried to be useful. "Do you have a credit transfer card?"

Mara pivoted to face him, straight arms outstretched, the beginning of the rain, Luke noting, creating a truly marvelous effect. "Do you see one anywhere?" She returned to the lock.

"We could nudge one of the palace guards, get him to come up here," Luke offered unhelpfully.

"Oh sure, and then wipe his mind clean of the experience with a Force brainwash? Just give me a minute, it's another sequence lock." With a click, the door slid open and they tumbled into the dark stairwell.

Mara fumbled for the light, but Luke stopped her. "No leave it," catching her, damp and warm against the railing.

Through a laugh, in the dark, she sought his mouth, relishing at last the feel of the man who had been intruding into her thoughts for days, ah, who was she kidding, weeks, months, maybe years. A stairwell had not been part of those dreams, but neither had the front seat of a speeder, the deck of her ship, a deserted office, a dusty warehouse, the middle of a crowded restaurant, and a trash dumpster.

That was an element of their connection too and she directed the thought to him: that he had been right; that out of sheer arrogance and bravura each would drive the other to do and to say what would never even be contemplated with another. It was their secret Mara promised. Succumbing to her invitation, he knotted his fingers in her hair, tilting her back against the rail to finally taste what had for so long eluded him.

Mara reached for him, searching with hands and mouth, and then through the Force, aching for him, for the power that became even more potent when linked with her own. Delving to the core of their bond, she cajoled silently, "You have only to think it Jedi."

"You can't say my name even now?"

"A name is power." She heard a fervent committed pledge as his lips traveled across her. Laced in the awareness of the other, stray thoughts and fleeting whims were captured and made real, through the Force that knit them together, unspoken words and hidden desires becoming manifest in flesh.

Luke could feel the control of earlier melting in her warmth. In the war between sensation and restraint something in him finally gave way, sweeping over them, overwhelming him, encompassing Mara. For an intoxicating moment, he would have abandoned everything, duty, responsibility, honor, control, especially control, everything for her. He knew her every nuance, every mood, every turn in that sharp mind. It was no longer enough. He wanted to plunge through her body as he had through her mind, wanted to drive her to the limits of the passion he knew her capable of, and most of all, wanted her to release in him what had been buried for so long it had almost ceased to be.

With the part of his awareness still rooted and free of her, Luke edged away from that abyss, finding the control he needed to avoid losing himself completely in the raw, seductive power of their psychic and physical bond. As he regained that thread of peace, Mara abruptly tensed, breaking away from him, a storm of fury suddenly unleashed. The word "Jedi" tore out of her mouth like a curse. Rocking back, she delivered a smacking blow across his face.

Luke staggered, bewildered, furious. Cutting off his exclamations, she spat out, "I knew it!" and fled down the stairwell. Luke gave chase, having no idea where he was going, but following the swath of emotion she cut through the Palace not difficult.

He became confused at the different levels, finally coming out into the branching corridors on what he thought was the seventh floor, and in his disorientation, plowed right into one of the palace guards. Great, just great.

"Excuse me sir, can I help you?"

Luke tried to gather whatever dignity a wet, exceedingly distracted Jedi Master could. He hoped the slap mark didn't show on his face. "No, I don't believe so, thank you."

He cast about, trying to sense where in the maze Mara had gone.

"Of course sir, but if I may make a suggestion? If you are looking for Master Trader Jade sir, she just ran through here a few moments ago." The guard pointed down the right corridor. "Her rooms are one floor down, fourth door on the left, can I escort you there, sir?"

"No thank you." Luke could hear it now in the Guard Corps, Jedi Master, brother to the Chief of State, chasing an almost naked, sopping wet Master Trader Jade, former Emperor's Hand, through the halls of Coruscant Palace in the middle of the night. He was sorely tempted to rip the entire scene from the man's memory, but instead made off for the seventh floor. What this would do to the odds on the Tales of the Jedi, wagering he could only imagine.

More focused, he had no difficulty locating Mara. Any Force sensitive within the Palace would be feeling her rage. He knocked softly, and heard a bellow in his head "GET LOST."

"Mara,"

"I said get outta here, I'm blasting outta here at first light."

"Mara, I'm not leaving until you give me an explanation."

"No way you are coming in here."

"Do you want me to have to try explaining this to another Palace guard?" That did it, the door flew open.

Mara was wrapped in a blanket, toweling herself off, pacing, quivering with wrath. Rivulets trailed her on the carpet. She had been working her hair and the rubbing had induced an entirely new element of wildness to her already disheveled appearance. Whatever he had done, Luke was certain this topped it, he had never seen her so angry.

"Can I borrow a towel please?" She flung the one she was using at him with a snarl. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Mara spun around, stunned. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or that even if I did notice, that I wouldn't care?" He just stood there, all tousled and innocent confusion, before shaking his head; the fool really did not have a clue. "You don't know, you have no idea?"

Luke shook his head again. "No, I . . ."

She interrupted. "Prijgin unbelievable. Well, then allow me to explain. That little stunt in the stairwell . . . ."

"What stunt?"

"The calming technique you moron, the damned Jedi meditation you launched into. We were off to what, to my mind at least, was a very promising beginning, and you decide to get in touch with inner peace?"

"Oh. That." Luke slumped down into the couch, leaving Mara to continue stalking about the room.

"Yes," she ranted. "'That' as you so eloquently described it. What I can't believe is that I actually thought this would be different, that you would be different. Deep down, I knew, oh I knew that you wouldn't be able to go through with it. Now, the only person I want to really hurt more than you, is myself, for being such an idiot to believe a word you say."

"Mara, would you please let me explain."

"Trust me, Skywalker, there is nothing you can say. The only favor you can do me is to get out, get out of my room, get out of my life, out my mind. So help me, if I have to kill you to be free of you I will."

He knew that if he could explain that she would understand. "Mara, you of all people know the balance we have to find."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Balance?" Her voice edged up in shrill fury. "You're talking about balance at a time like this?"

He spoke more firmly, the Master had to make her see this. "Yes, the struggle we have to maintain peace, to control the power that we have. We both fight the same thing every moment of our lives. I can't surrender that, even when..." He paused, embarrassed, but plunged ahead. "Well, especially with you. Surely you can see that."

Mara was dumbfounded. "You mean that a Jedi can never find a release from control, that you have to be," her voice bit with bitter sarcasm, "serene even during..."

Luke interrupted her, wishing she were not quite so blunt. "Yes, especially then."

"Why?" she demanded.

It seemed absurd to try to explain this at all, and particularly to Mara who so understood the hazards of power and the importance of control. "A Jedi should always be at peace." Luke hesitated, then finally spoke the harsh reality, reluctantly acknowledging the burden of mastery in the Force. "A Jedi should feel no passion."

He had expected sympathy or understanding, not a harangue. Incredulous, Mara belted out, "What? That's the most absurd excuse I've ever heard. I can't wait to hear your justification for this one."

Unprepared to mount this defense, even to his own ears, Luke thought the explanation sounded lame. "If I felt those kinds of emotions, I'd be vulnerable, someone could exploit me, manipulate me."

He was so seriously earnest, Mara burst out laughing. "Funny you never mentioned this to me during my training; strange it never came up on Verrat."

"It, it, should have, I just realized here that ..." He could not complete the incoherent thought, ending with a mumbled, "It's just different now."

"Of course," she mocked. "The rules are always different for the Master. So, how did you come to labor under this incredible, egotistical delusion of the nature of Jedi intimacy?"

Luke took a tight rein on the anger her derision incited. "What do you mean?"

"I mean how do you know this, is this something Kenobi told you?"

"Of course not." Luke was blushing at the very idea of it.

"Or the Master who instructed you?"

"No, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous, I'm trying to ascertain where this bizarre rationalization comes from. Maybe you had a father to son chat with Vader on the subject of making love to the women in your lives?"

Luke lost patience at that blow. "Mara, I realize that you are such an expert on this subject, but has this ever come up with you?"

She laughed again. "Don't divert me. You know very well it hasn't."

"How would I? For all I know every one of your copilots is just a junior Jedi training. Or maybe Lando harbored some latent skill."

If she had been angry before, the mention of Lando threw her into a truly righteous fury. "I knew we'd get around to that sooner or later."

"Well why shouldn't we? He is one of my best friends." Luke knew that at the root was not friendship and disloyalty, but simple envy.

Mara gave him no reprieve. "You know Skywalker, I think maybe you should go out and find yourself a nice, respectable woman with no Force skill. She'll never be the wiser that you're not doing anything but giving your all to her."

"That's really cruel, Mara."

"Is it? For all your moralizing on the importance of Jedi control in intimate relationships, the issue has never arisen for you either."

"Callista was . . ."

Mara exploded. "Callista wasn't all there, she either didn't have a body, or didn't have a soul, either way, it doesn't count. It's been damn convenient for you, this habit of falling only for women who can't give you both." Her words hung in the air, spoken in heat, they scorched, burning away the pretense to expose an unacknowledged truth.

The remote, hunched figure on the couch muttered caustically, "And you with all your wisdom and experience are just the solution to all my failings aren't you?"

"That's not it. You're wrong, I know you're wrong." Her anger spent, Mara sank wearily onto the couch next to the Master. "You're the one who taught me that the Force binds life together. I can't imagine anything more affirming of it than what two people would share. To say that you have to control even that is like saying Jedi have to control the seasons. The balance of the Force doesn't rest with denying yourself the most elemental things of nature."

"Don't frame this as a question of Jedi philosophy," he countered with quiet rigidity. "This is about power. You're just trying to dictate terms to me again, and I won't play along."

Mara's sigh was more disgusted, than angry. "On this, yes I am. I'm sorry Luke, but this is nonnegotiable for me. I don't understand your decision, but for me, it's very straightforward. If you won't open yourself to me, then this is over before it even began. I've been the student to another Emperor before, I won't do it again."

"Weren't you the one who told me nothing is worth the Dark Side? Can't you see, that's what could be at stake for me?"

Mara stared at him. As the import of his statement sunk in, seething, blind wrath and profound hurt swept through her. Luke sprang back at the torrent of ferocious outrage.

Mara was absolutely white, aghast. "So that's what this is all about," she whispered. "You don't trust me."

Luke stammered, "No, I..."

"I can't believe it. After all we've been through, after all these years, and . . ." She simply could not even find the words, choking, gasping with the betrayal of his mistrust.

Luke saw, felt that he had delivered a devastating blow, but finally said, "No, I guess I don't, not completely."

Mara staggered to her feet, "It's getting late, I think you'd better..."

Luke was not about to be dismissed so summarily. Seizing her wrist, he jerked her back to the couch; it was not going to end like this with him as the villain. "I'm not going anywhere yet. You accuse me of not trusting you, but what kind of confirmation do I have other than your word? You seem to forget that you were the one who stalked me for years, you were the disciple of someone who wanted me quite dead, or worse."

Mara struggled to stand. "That was a long time ago."

He gripped her arms, yanking her down. "Is it? You're the one with all the secrets, the neat files, the divisions and lines, the life segregated into so many pieces who knows what's in the different parts, to say nothing of whether there is even an integrated whole."

Mara stopped fighting against him, shocked at the charge he had leveled. Luke had pinned her hard and was not in a mood to be trifled with. Dragging her closer, he bent over her, whispering, "I'm calling your bluff Mara. You say that I won't open to you?" He clutched her face in his hand, "Open to me, really, and then we'll see who has the secrets."

If he had phrased it in any way other than a challenge, she would have certainly refused. But he knew her so well, knew exactly the button to push, and knowing even that he was manipulating her, she could not but rise to his dare.

Locked in a strangling embrace, her nails bit into his wrist. "Go ahead, you'll find nothing here, but I'll never call you Master."

He dove into her, not with the gentle sharing that had come to define their link, but to scour every crevice of her mind and memory. She did not flinch, did not resist, did not lead or guide, but allowed him in to ransack her consciousness. Even if it meant repeating Palpatine's ravages, Luke had to know the truth of her elusiveness; they had come too far to turn back.

He found her earliest memories of the Emperor, of a young, brutalized girl, clinging to the only anchor she had ever known. He felt the brutality and cruelty he had always known she had suffered, but until now, had only dimly imagined. He saw Jabba's Palace as she did, the day that he began the systematic destruction of her entire world. He felt her despair after Endor, the yawning chasm that had opened in her psyche with the death of her Master. The emptiness should have swallowed her and would have killed a lesser person. He heard the lie Palpatine had planted and the voices driving her to murder. Unfolding like a strange holovid, he saw himself, their days and weeks together on Myrkr, Coruscant, and Wayland. He saw an image of a tiny impotent Palpatine, in a cage with his mouth taped shut, and he heard Mara say, "He is silent to me now."

Her years with the Alliance flashed by. He saw the day she left Yavin with Han and Lando to chase Kyp, and astonishingly felt her disappointment. "You mean you might have stayed if I had asked?"

Her answer was wrenching. "Maybe, but I'd already been a student, you didn't give me any other reason to stay."

Even that revelation did not fully prepare him for the pang when he saw through her eyes, his own exultant reunion with Callista. He suddenly understood why Mara's relationship with Lando had ended. "It seemed so shallow by comparison," was her quiet explanation.

Still, he marched on. He found her craving for security and comfort, her strength, her competence, her impervious self-sufficiency, her extreme solitude, her calculated subtlety, the grudging admiration and distrust others had for her, the tightly leashed anger, and the passion, bestowed on far fewer than she had led him to believe. As he had long known, he saw anew her loyalty and a willingness to sacrifice self-interest for principle. In a deep, dark place he found her rage, her distrust of others, the loneliness, and heard her say, "I know this place."

It was only as he sought her secrets since leaving Yavin that she began fighting. Mara threw up a wall, he realized attempting to conceal her conversation with his father. He had known all along that there was something she had hidden from him, and this time would learn of it. Battering up against her barricade, he taunted, "You said you had no secrets." Feeling her falter at the challenge, he mocked, "What are you afraid of that I'll learn what his Champion told his Hand?"

Stung, furious, she opened a chink in the wall, and Luke lunged through it, laying bare the memory, watching as the dialogue played back in her mind. He could feel her panic grow, her anger explode with Vader's final admonishment to her to "Love my son well."

Luke was stunned, that she had gone to such efforts to hide something so inconsequential and that in his fear of what she had secreted away, that he would go to such lengths to rip it from her. He released her, and shrank from her mind, thoroughly ashamed, ashamed of what he had done, at how he had so compromised her. He bent over sickened, immersed in self-loathing.

Mara crawled into the corner of the couch. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she swore into the cushion, "Just get out of here."

But Luke could not, not without first atoning; his guilt-racked voice pierced through her haze of misery, "I can't believe I did that to you. Mara, I'm sorry."

"Fine, apology accepted, now get out."

"After what I did and..."

She swung back blazing, "Listen, isn't it enough that you know, or do you plan to humiliate me more?"

To Luke, the crime was not the secret, but how he had stripped her of it. He suddenly realized that for Mara, the agony lay in his knowing of Vader's instruction.

Nothing could compensate for what he had done, but he could at least relieve her needless anxiety about this. "It doesn't matter what Vader said. You could have told me."

She sneered, "Right."

"No, really, you could have."

Her response was harshly sarcastic, "I can just imagine that conversation. You're ready to slit your wrists over Callista and I pipe up with, guess what, forget her because your father thinks I'm the perfect match." Seething with frustration, Mara burrowed her head again into the cushions.

Luke laid a soft hand on her shoulder only to have her jerk away from him. "Mara, I don't care what he said."

"You don't get it do you?" She clenched a pillow, wringing it in her hands, "I know what you felt for Callista. Remember? I felt it half way across the galaxy. I know you don't feel that for me." She spit out the words. "It's degrading, revolting, that you would think that I felt that way, that even assuming I could, that I would, when I damned well know it'd be a one way romance."

Placing his hands about her shoulders and head, Luke brought her to him, "Look at me please."

She turned slowly, reluctantly toward him, eyes, downcast.

"I can't make this any plainer. I know what you feel," he paused significantly, wanting her to understand this, "and I know what you don't. My father's meddling doesn't make me question your feelings, or change how I feel about you."

She looked up, staring intently into him, searching for any falsity or hesitancy in his assurance. Luke ventured, "The only thing I don't understand is why you have suddenly started paying attention to anything a long dead Dark Lord of the Sith said."

Mara continued studying him, finally smirking with a quiet, ironic humph. "Good question."

As her relief flooded over them, he dropped his head on her shoulder, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I should have never, ever done that to you." Luke stammered in a strangled admission, "I was just so afraid of what you might have hidden."

Mara slid her arms around him, easing into a forgiving embrace, her hands warming his cold as the protective blanket fell away. "What you did was wrong only if you won't let me in now." Her Force sense brushed the first of his barriers impenetrable to her gentle touch. "We want this so much, are you still going to shut me out?"

What she asked was the one thing Luke had believed he could never give. Sensing his hesitation, Mara's hands encircled his face, raising his eyes to her own, bearing into him, forcing him to confront the enormity of what he had done, and the only way he could repent of it. Her words were soft; the ultimatum was not. "Are you going to withhold the same thing you took from me?"

He wavered, wondering with anguish if Mara had ever truly asked anything of him before.

Leaning in to kiss him lightly, she again stroked the barricade that kept her away. "Let me in, please."

With a surrendering moan, Luke opened himself to her. Silently, with immense effort, the deconstruction began, brick by brick. With each layer in his impervious armor, Mara's awareness would flow into him only to be halted by another wall. Murmuring, softly caressing with hands, and lips and mind, she would coax it down, layer by layer, peeling away the years of invulnerability, pain, deprivation and disappointment.

She saw with him all the simple pains of a lonely boy in a harsh desert, the ambition and romantic dreams. To have those dreams fulfilled, to become a hero, and then a reluctant one as every victory was seemingly bought at tremendous cost: escaping from a bored, limited life only with the murder of his family; destroying the Death Star only through the sacrifice of friends; losing a love to gain a sister; realizing a father was not dead, but a monster; regaining a father, only to lose him again.

And then after the Rebellion, a warrior without a battle to fight. Every gain in mastery Luke had paid for with another credit of his basic humanity. Mara saw that the things he wanted most were the things that most consistently eluded him. The yearning for excitement, conflict, intimacy, romance, always at war with his resolute conviction that he must never seek them. The guilt of the craving, the frustration of never giving into it, never satisfying the demands of either extreme, trying to find a balance, his very nature demanded its opposite.

In a terrifying moment, she fell into his pit of despair, an aching, lonely void she had felt within him before, but from which she had always recoiled. This was where she found detachment and isolation as his seeming only panacea for the death of hopes and loves. Allowing himself to care so rarely, for so few, every loss took on a greater, more poignant magnitude. "Would you share even this with me?" he asked. Mara answered with a deepening kiss and a blossoming light.

The further she delved, the faster the walls began to fall, the mental ones, the emotional ones, the psychic ones, the mere physical ones that separated them, flung and scattered on the floor. As she plummeted to the depths of their connection, heat, breath, dark, damp and pulse rose in a throbbing crescendo.

And then, as when they had traversed the belt together, she burst through the last of the barriers, warm and vibrant, slick with the sweat of their effort to tear down his walls, in his arms, on his lips, under his hands, and poised above a place within him buried so deeply he had forgotten he ever knew of it. Luke heard her wonder, "Where are we?" and incongruously he remembered, Yoda, telling him in a quick hesitant lesson, "If you ever come here again, it shall only be with another Jedi."

And, suddenly, he understood. Stroking her sleek body, he told her, "You were right, you've been right all along. You have this too."

"I do?"

As Mara opened to him, Luke swirled into her strong, sweet awareness, finding the same hidden place within her. For a heartbeat they hung suspended, and then in a burning moment of fierce joining, plunged together into that inmost place.

Mind to mind, soul to soul, one heart, one body. If the Force exacts a price from Jedi for a lifetime of ascetic denial, it also gives them a unique reward. There is no purpose to control, if there is nothing to control. And there, in that place, each found in the other all that had ever been restrained and denied, a wellspring of passion and desires that had needed only another Jedi to unleash them.

In the breathless moment before their union in that secret place swept away all reason, thought, and control, one mind sighed to the other, "It's about time."

ooOOoo

As he dragged himself into consciousness, Luke wondered how long it had been since he had woken with a sure sense of where he was. The bright light streaming into the unfamiliar room told him it was quite late, memory and comprehension returning a split second later when, in reaching out to the surroundings, his Force sense seemed reluctant to make the sweep, as if bruised. No, not as if bruised, everything, Force sense included, was bruised.

So it was without the benefit of the Force, that Luke rolled over to confront, like any other mere and unsure man, the uncertain consequences of the night's activities. One arm and the ever present mat of hair were all that were visible, the rest buried. Well, no fun in that. Luke slipped out of the tangled bed, feeling that starting the morning, correct that, afternoon tea, would at least help. Too bad the temporary quarters did not have a stock of brandy; he felt in sore need of something to fortify him.

He thought seriously of gathering up his scattered belongings and just creeping out altogether, but the move did not seem quite, _honorable_. Besides, and for the first time, he permitted himself a grin, he doubted he could find everything in the shambles. The room looked as if a gale Force wind had blown through it, which, in a way, it had.

He was deliberately and quietly making his way back to the bed when Mara awoke. Her head emerged from under the pillow, and in a moment of blinking shock, she took in who was standing in the middle of her room. Mara groaned and buried her head again. Luke cursed his carelessness. After a moment's consideration, he realized there really wasn't anywhere else to go, and slipped back into the bed, keeping a careful distance.

Bashful embarrassment might have seemed a strange reaction after everything they had been through, and particularly after the evening's events had left so few things on the list undone. Sometimes, however, even age, experience and a long, long friendship cannot lessen the awkwardness of a morning after.

Luke finally offered a tentative, "You okay?"

Another groan. "Just give me a minute to adjust to this."

He felt her try to reach out with the Force, only to experience the same stinging reaction. Her "ouch" was muffled. "Do you feel this way too?"

"Like you're sunburned or something? Yes."

Head still under a pillow, she mumbled, "What'd you think caused it?"

"I suspect sustained and novel applications of the Force. I also imagine that the place we tapped into carries certain after effects." He humphed thoughtfully, "Probably to keep Jedi from plundering through there more often."

The observation was of sufficient interest for Mara to venture out of her hiding place. "You mean you don't know?" Luke was not quite sure what she meant, and his confusion must have shown. She tried again. "How did you know about it?"

He thought he understood now, and dared to turn and face her. "The Master who taught me had shown me where it was once, but I'd forgotten I even knew about it."

A hand emerged with her head, tracing lines in his hair and neck. "I caught an image of some really small, weird looking guy in a robe, that was your Master?"

He nodded, amused at her description of Yoda. "I remember thinking even at the time that he was rather smug about that lesson, but all he said was that I would only be able to find that place within me again with another Jedi. I only understood what that meant last night."

"So you didn't know what was there, you didn't know what would happen when we went there?"

"No." Mara digested the implications of that flat statement. He hesitated, but then asked, "You didn't know either, did you?"

Her answer was slow, and bore a trace of hardness. "No copilot of mine has ever shown a shred of Force ability."

In spite of the wincing pain, he reached out to her, trying to touch that bitterness, first with hands and through the Force, then aloud, "I'm so sorry."

Turning away, but without anger, Mara sighed. "It's like what you said before. No one could say and do what we manage to say and do to each other. Sometimes that's not a good thing."

"And sometimes it's a very good thing too." He deliberately called to mind an example from the previous evening, and felt her quiet chuckle as she picked up the thought.

Clasping her more closely, Luke knew what her reaction would be to his question. "Why didn't you tell me before about Vader?"

Mara stiffened, but he held her fast. She groaned again, "How could I have said anything without you getting the wrong idea? It was so humiliating, so infuriating to be ordered around like that."

He whispered into her ear, "You have nothing to worry about." With her tension ebbing slightly, Luke relaxed his hold.

Mara shifted away, finally muttering incoherently into the pillow, "I don't, I mean, about what he said, I don't, well you know."

"I know."

Lying side by side, a pillow apart, she eventually asked what needed to be said, "You don't either, do you?"

"No." There was no hesitation in Luke's answer.

With that simple understanding accomplished, both seemed better able to acknowledge what had passed between them. For whatever reason of misplaced decorum and modesty, each struggled to maintain a shy space as they edged and thrashed about in coordinated tandem to survey, from the vantage of the bed, the ruin that had once been a guest suite. From their perch, Mara rested her chin in her hands, kicking both feet in the air. "Sith," she exclaimed, "what a wreck," referring to the room. Glancing over at Luke, Mara then did a double take as she really noticed him for the first time that morning. "You look like something the rancor dragged in."

"You finally have the appearance to match the temperament, witch."

They returned to their casual contemplation of the room. Mara muttered with a certain amount of awe, "How do you suppose _that_ happened?"

"You're asking me?" Luke protested, wondering himself and as uncomfortable as she. "I was concentrating on other things at the time."

"HA!" Her bony elbow contacted a scrap of his exposed side. "I'll be sure to have Palace maintenance send a droid crew. Any sentient seeing this mess would know we had quite a party last night."

"The entire Guard Corps probably knows already."

Having identified a body of research which would benefit from careful investigation, and deeming his retaliatory poke in her ribs a sufficient invitation, Mara moved closer and began another round with the scientific method. After a time she again located the synapses responsible for speech, murmuring, "Guard Corps?"

His mind having similarly disengaged from cognitive functions, Luke was not much more articulate, "Uhmmm, on the way down from the roof, I ran into a guard. He'd seen you running by, offered to escort me here."

Mara laughed, "Poor Jedi. Imagine what this will do to your clean living reputation."

"Well what about yours?"

She laughed again, "I don't have one to lose."

"Uh huh. Liar." Sensing a grumbling complaint, Luke quickly relented. "If the truth ever gets out, you can hunt me down and uhhhh, use me as a test subject."

Mara sighed happily and returned to the only activities her pleasure-drugged mind permitted. Her high expectations had not been disappointed, even apart from their astonishing and truly mesmerizing discovery of, well whatever it was. She was eventually able to observe what the state of the room made obvious, "Apart from the Guard Corps, anyone with a lick of Force sensitivity in the Palace probably knows what happened too."

"We were broadcasting on a pretty broad band. Maybe we ..." Luke stopped, realizing he was going to say something about "next time," and knowing that was a discussion they were not prepared to have.

With his hesitation, Mara thrashed through the bedcovers, sitting up to soak in the lush yellow light pouring through the blinds, luxuriating in a snapping stretch. There had been other mornings that had so illuminated, but never with quite this effect. In a shuddering moment he recognized as virtually reflexive, Luke struggled for a measure of control.

Mara immediately sensed the tension and the effort to calm it. Glaring at him, she scolded playfully, but with a hint of very real threat, "Cut that out."

Luke shut his eyes to the searing image, burrowing shyly away, embarrassed, this all so fundamentally at odds with the austere, severe existence he had forced upon himself for so long. He felt her light touch and soft words, "What's wrong?"

"I just feel foolish, all this time ... and now ..." An aggravated sigh escaped him, "What a waste, to finally find out that there were some sacrifices I never had to make."

How someone so strong could also be so gentle was amazing to him, "There was no way you could have known."

Flinching slightly at her smooth caress, Luke mumbled, "Well, you knew better."

Mara gloated with satisfaction, "I am NOT going to permit this self-pity. I believe the correct statement is, 'you were right Mara.'"

He laughed and again opened to the smug tempest of a Jedi. "You were right Mara," he repeated.

"Very good. That humble recognition is deserving of an appropriate reward. But, ahhhhh, what?" Luke had several suggestions, Mara rejecting all of them with a shake of her wild hair, "been there, done that." As she contemplated rewards, Luke realized that at almost 40 years of age, he was learning only now that there were some heretofore unknown compensations to mastery in the Force besides, as Mara had said, the ability to levitate really big rocks.

Mara interrupted these reflections with a triumphant "aha!" She leaned down, placing a delicate kiss on his chin and then moving on.

"What have you decided?"

Speaking in between seemingly random provocative kisses, she murmured, "Looking for scars, I'm connecting the dots."

She was addictive, doing nothing to wean him of the compulsion, and in the present instance, so thorough, he actually rued not getting injured more often, eventually saying with regret, "Too bad I don't have more scars."

In a not unsubtle hint, Mara offered, "I do." Luke applied himself accordingly, finding that through exercise and use, the after effects of the previous night were wearing off.

Mara giggling was, however, neither the reaction he had expected, nor something to which he had yet become accustomed; Luke did not think he had yet found that button. "What's so funny?"

Mara said mischievously, "I was just thinking about at least one Force sensitive in the Palace who probably had a big shock last night. It's a helluva way for your sister to find out what we've been up to."

Thinking what his own reaction would be under the circumstances, Luke observed, "I can't imagine Han would have any objections. And by the way," with a shove he pushed her back, and propped up, surveyed the landscape beneath him as it were, "I expect your full, not split, concentration right now."

Mara stared back, saying in a hushed, dangerous voice, "Is that an order?"

Under his probing, trailing fingers, he felt anew her firm restraint; the flood of everything else locked tightly behind it spiced an already heady, potent brew. "Not an order Captain, it's a dare." He returned to the task at hand with renewed efforts, the thrill of seeing her exquisite control give way a powerful incentive.

ooOOoo

On the other side of the Palace, the Chief of State and her husband were getting a similarly late start on the day. And as had been speculated in other quarters, the Chief of State had indeed woken in the middle of the night to some remarkable feelings that, although a surprise to her husband of over eleven years, were certainly never unwelcome. Leia felt no small amount of embarrassment herself as she struggled to explain to an amused Han that she had really had no idea what had come over her, "I was very tired, I was sound asleep, I can't think what happened."

"Sweetie, you can wake me up for that any time." Han wrapped his diminutive wife in an all-encompassing embrace. He had no intention of letting affairs of galactic importance mar what had been for him, an unexpectedly terrific evening and morning.

A husband's frank gusto for his wife's foibles could be disconcerting even after years together. Leia stammered, "It was like something in the Force that just pulled me along."

Han shook his confused wife gently, "I've got no complaints at all."

Leia nestled more deeply next to her husband; so many things to do, so little motivation to do anything except remain right where she was. She said tentatively, "Maybe I should try asking Luke about it, but," she trailed off, loath to raise such a subject with her brother.

Han burst out laughing, "I don't think you'd get much of an explanation out of him. Luke was probably the cause of it."

Leia pushed the maniac next to her away with an angry shove, "What are you talking about?"

Han sighed. Jedi. His life was full of them, and for all their wisdom and oneness with the universe, he sometimes felt he was the only one with any grasp on reality. "What you were probably feeling my dear Jedi wife, was Luke and Mara, if you take my meaning."

Leia turned a deep shade of pink, Han continuing to chuckle at her discomfiture, "All I can say is sweetheart, I'd be glad to vacation with them any time."

"Mara?" Leia's tone indicated just how unlikely she thought that to be. "What do you know about this?" she accused.

Han protested his innocence, "I don't know anything, except that Luke was in knots about her last night, and although she hid it better than he did, she was completely over the edge for him too."

Leia sat up, disgusted with her husband's farfetched delusions. "Even if you're right, I don't see how ..." Blushing again, she shook her head adamantly, her mind refusing to acknowledge such an uncomfortable scenario. "I think I should at least try to contact Luke, see if he's all right. It might have affected him too . . .."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," but Leia, ignoring Han's admonition briefly sought her brother's familiar presence in the Force. She gasped, turning once again a pink, and then even deeper shade of red, throwing herself back onto the bed in mortification.

Han laughed again, "I told you not to do that."

The chagrin eventually passing, Leia was able to giggle, "I just got the Force equivalent of a 'Do not Disturb' sign." Returning to her nest, she mused, "I wonder how long this has been going on?"

Han yawned and stretched, wondering how he could finesse a repeat of the last eight hours or so, "Not long I think, but who knows? They've been circling each other for years."

Leia mused, "I had thought that Callista really bothered her, and Lando might have even bothered him."

Han shrugged, more interested in indulging in a favorite pastime of combing Leia's hair across the sheets. "Could be, they'd both deny it."

Absorbed in one of her own favorite pastimes involving fingers and toes, she observed as an aside, "General Sveltner said NRI Covert wants to use them more often. He wanted me to ask them if they would consider working for NRI on a job basis."

Han snorted, "I don't imagine Mara would be too keen on being an NRI spook."

"Maybe, but she's done a lot for the NR in the past, albeit reluctantly at times."

"I suppose. Sveltner's right to want them though, they are a good team, better than anyone else NRI could field. And there is a real strong connection there too."

Her question was suspicious, "Connection?"

Han knew that warning tone oh so well, "Yeah. Watch them closely, there's something there. Mara let something slip that makes me think they are almost telepathic."

Leia was lofty, "I'll grant you, Luke did seem distracted yesterday, but I didn't get any sense that he had that kind of a link with Mara."

Han decided it was time to remind his wife of something important, drawing her back to him, all fire and ice, and what melts in between. He whispered softly to the woman he loved more than the air he breathed, "Sometimes you don't need the Force to see or to sense what is between two people."

Leia dissolved into his arms with a mumbled, "nerf."

ooOOoo

The NRI staff and General Sveltner, the recently appointed acting NRI Covert chief, waited impatiently for the 1400 hour meeting to begin. Given the demands upon her time, it was understandable that the Chief of State might be late. He did not understand, however, what pressing affairs could possibly detain Master Skywalker, Master Trader Jade, or General Solo. A neat, punctual, precise man, General Sveltner did not tolerate the absence of these qualities in others.

Skywalker and Jade strolled in a few minutes apart and a full twenty minutes late. Sveltner noted that Jade made a point of sitting as far from Skywalker as possible while still being in the same room with him. He had, by this, time, fairly memorized the extensive files NRI maintained on both of them, and was not surprised. He wondered only at how two such volatile personalities could still run circles around every adversary circumstance had thrown at them, and despaired that the two best people available to him were as likely to kill each other as the enemy.

Sveltner had, of course, already heard about the episode involving the Palace Guard. The incident would be duly recorded in Skywalker's file under the subheading "Jade Speculation," and in Jade's file, under a similarly named "Skywalker Speculation." These highly classified portions of the files had entertained and titillated the analysts for years, the betting almost rivaling that now raging on the Tales of the Jedi episode airing that night. In fact, one reason Sveltner and his staff were so anxious for this meeting to begin and end promptly was so that they would all be able to get home in time to see the concluding episode of Showdown at Centerpoint Station.

When they entered a few minutes later, Luke could not help but notice Han's subtle overtones toward his wife. Catching Han's half grin and wink, he immediately slumped further in his seat, becoming engrossed in his data pad, abashed at the message of thanks from his brother-in-law so clear, he might as well have shouted it across the room. Couldn't be helped he supposed, but it still was damned uncomfortable. Leia's interruption had been bad enough.

Luke had no interest in fighting Mara for the dubious privilege of conducting this part of the briefing. The staff was most interested in the financial data and Luke had seen enough of it over the trip to last a while. Might as well let Mara display why she was a Master Trader, and he only the Jedi Master.

He noticed a curious expectancy in the room, and was occupied for most of the meeting with trying to puzzle it out. In overhearing a blip, he comprehended with amusement, that the assembled staff was wondering whether he and Master Trader Jade were "right" for one another, and finding it difficult to wait until that night's vid to learn the truth.

It was for that reason, that the meeting proceeded with a clarity and conciseness unheard of in any other NRI briefing Luke had ever attended. Yet another unanticipated benefit of that wretched melodramatic space trash. He heard Leia's voice intruding into his thoughts, "Sveltner wants to speak with you and Mara after the meeting. It won't be long."

Luke responded silently, "I know. Everyone wants to get home and find out what my destiny is." He passed the message onto Mara.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter. Han and Leia joined Luke, and after a moment's hesitation, Mara moved from her remote seat to a closer one. Addressing Luke and Mara, Sveltner began, "I wanted to thank you both for assisting us in this matter. Your work has underscored how lacking NRI is in people with the unique combination of skills and experience the two of you have. I had hoped that I might be able to call upon you both in the future, should the need arise."

Mara spoke first, cool, but not irate, "General, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I do have my own business to run."

"Of course you do, Captain."

The little man continued with more assurance and less tact. "That is one reason why your assistance is so valuable. It is precisely because you are a trader, and known so widely as a trader, that makes you so useful an asset to the NR."

They could all sense Mara's irritation at being so cataloged, but she said nothing.

Luke injected, "I resigned my commission years ago General, I'm not sure that NRI activities are necessarily appropriate for a Jedi Master."

"Well, again, Master Skywalker, we are sorely in need of those qualities. I certainly understand the concerns you both have, some sacrifice would be necessary. But this matter on Verrat emphasizes once again that it is the combination of skills both of you bring to the team that compels me to make this request."

Both Luke and Mara had alighted upon the same word, "Team?"

Sveltner stammered slightly before again locating his poise, "Did I not explain that? NRI is specifically interested in the two of you as a team, to be available to us for special missions, and for field training operatives."

They were both momentarily stunned, Mara becoming tensely mute. The five of them sat in silence until Luke finally said, "I know I will need to consider this further General." Mara only nodded.

Good byes made, Sveltner headed hurriedly out the door, eager to make the long commute home and be on time for the episode airing in a few hours. He had participated in the NRI office pool, and wanted to find out if he was going to be able to take his wife out for that nice dinner on the proceeds.

Luke turned to Leia, "Well that was interesting."

Leia shrugged slightly, "Be flattered, both of you. Sveltner doesn't normally ask such things, certainly not of two pseudo-civilians. He was very impressed with what you accomplished. He's right, not many people could have acquired and deciphered the financial data, recognized the scam, recognized the players, traced the credits, and finessed the rescue."

Mara injected sourly, "It's a hell of a thank you. We saved their hide with this fiasco, and this is just Sveltner's way of assuring everyone else that we're always on call to clean up his messes."

A slightly awkward silence followed, before Han finally spoke up. "Don't suppose either of you would be interested in joining the most significant cultural event of the galaxy in decades and watching the Showdown episode with us tonight?"

Even if he had not necessarily considered what response his half-sarcastic query would elicit, Han did not expect Mara to visibly smirk and apparently make some silent comment to Luke, who responded with a stifled, choking laugh. Han noticed further that Leia evidently overheard the exchange, first giggling then schooling her expression into one of polite interest. This was bad enough with his wife, children and brother-in-law. And now Mara too. Han scowled, "Now that you all have had a laugh, want to let me in on it."

Luke apologized, "Sorry, Han. It might be fun, but it really depends on how much brandy you have."

Mara piped in, "I doubt we could get through that show without at least two bottles of Corellia's finest Solo."

Han guffawed, "Two bottles, are you kidding?"

Luke thought about it further, then said, "You're right, I think we might need three bottles and some wine." He stood, "Come on, let's check out your liquor cabinet." As Luke and Han headed out the door, Luke put a companionable arm over his friend's shoulder, "So, are you familiar with the rules of the Tales of the Jedi drinking game?"

Fun? Drinking games? Leia could not remember when she had last felt that light hearted quality in her brother and turned to Mara with expressive wonderment. Mara pushed away from the table, communicating clearly that she was running from any heart to heart with Leia. She was not, however, able to move fast enough toward the door before Leia was able to cut off the obvious retreat.

"Mara..." Leia's salvo forced Mara to stop abruptly. Pivoting, she had to content herself with pacing the room. "I really can't thank you enough for what you've done."

Mara shrugged, digging her hands into her suit. "Well, we just sort of fell into the Tirgu thing. I should have known, if Skywalker got involved that it wasn't going to be a normal run."

Leia knew Mara deliberately misunderstood her, "Of course we all appreciate what you did there, but I'm especially grateful for what you've done for Luke."

Mara stayed stonily silent. Leia continued, "I have no interest in prying. We all know that Luke has not been himself for a long time, and I just wanted you to know that I attribute the obvious improvement to you." Leia stood, knowing that Mara would reveal nothing, and was even relieved that she would not; the link with her brother already brought Leia closer to the situation than she wanted to be.

Which reminded her that there was one thing she would rather raise now with Mara, then with her brother, later. With a slim smile Leia quickly trained into a bland expression, she said obliquely, "I apologize for any intrusion. It won't happen again."

Leia was startled to see the aloof, collected Mara actually redden, and further amazed to sense a warm, uncertain shyness. If she had not felt a sense of fun in Luke for years, she had never felt warmth or uncertainty from Mara. Leia understood something of the conflict, and wished she could convey an empathy Mara probably would not welcome. Not so very long ago, Leia herself had bitten back the fears and misgivings to cross the chasm that separated a friend from a lover. Embracing that vulnerability had been nearly insurmountable for Leia; she could only imagine what an obstacle it had been, and still was, for Mara.

Mara's mumbling cut off anything Leia might have said, "Well, sorry about any, uh intrusions last night."

It was then that Leia noticed that Mara was nervously fingering a lightsaber handle clipped to her belt. She stared at it. "You're a Jedi?"

Mara straightened, the customary prickliness returning, "Who says?"

Leia suddenly realized the handle was familiar to her. She fleetingly wished Mara had not been able to so easily perceive her own shock. "How long have you had it?"

Mara looked down at the handle, still defensive, "Over ten years, since right after Wayland."

Leia's astonishment slowly faded. "It's ironic certainly." She paused, then asked, "Why did he give you our father's lightsaber?" Leia did not ask judgmentally, but only out of curiosity.

The admission came hard to Mara. "I don't know." She looked up, meeting Leia's gaze. "And your brother doesn't know either." Mara's eyes briefly went out of focus, with a wispy smile, evidently sharing some private exchange with Luke to which Leia, to her further surprise, was not privy.

In that moment, Leia suddenly saw what Han had meant by the connection between Luke and Mara, and marveled that she had not seen it before. There was a bond, a deep one, nothing like her link with Luke, and after sensing the tenor of the unseen current, Leia realized it was also very unlike her own love for Han. It was that personal experience as a reference, a reference she felt neither Luke nor Mara had, that permitted Leia, in a flash of insight to comprehend that what existed between the two of them was something unique, transcending simple emotions or explanation, common only to Jedi and no others. She wondered if Luke and Mara knew of it, and swiftly concluded that they probably did not. She felt a stab of pity, for what strength in the Force had demanded of them, denied them, and hopefully, also given them as recompense.

Turning toward the door, Leia asked, "So, tell me about this drinking game."

ooOOoo

Necessary arrangements made, and after exchanging some brief words of understanding with Han, Luke retreated, needing to sort through the emotions coursing through him. He sought the solitude of the roof, sitting on the ledge, admiring the huge lowering sun tinting the sky shades of pink and orange. He was not really surprised when, some time later, he sensed Mara's approach, she, no doubt seeking the same refuge. "No," he said, "it's all right, come on up." As he felt her ascend the stairs, he thought this was not so much a repeat of the previous night, as it was of their meeting over ten years ago.

As Mara emerged from the stairwell and slowly crossed the roof, Luke wondered if he would ever have the same view of stairwells, or at least of the Coruscant roof stairwell again. She sat next to him, saying nothing, keeping her distance, as each tried to give the other the mental privacy so much needed. There was so much to say, and no easy way to begin it.

As the sun dipped, Mara began with a relatively neutral question, "Have you decided what to do about Sveltner's offer?"

"Well that depends on you, too. He wanted both of us."

"How does a Jedi Master feel about being an NRI commando?"

Luke banged his dangling feet against the ledge. "Not necessarily a commando. Teacher too. And I probably feel about it the same way a Master Trader does on learning NRI thinks her trading is just a good cover."

"That does annoy me. He was awfully cavalier about my livelihood. And yours. Still," she paused for dramatic effect and a sly sideways glance, "it might be fun."

That, Luke thought, was the most reassuring thing he had yet heard. He said only, "It certainly could be."

Even if relieved, Mara instinctively shied from the hopefulness that had trickled out and attempted to shift the emotional timbre of their discussion, "We could always use it as an opportunity to keep looking for respectable prospects for you."

With what he deemed her phenomenally callous statement, Luke erupted, "How can you say such a thing? Especially after . . ." He slid off the ledge, struggling to control the wounded feeling she had inflicted, and angry at himself for feeling it. "It cheapens what we have."

"What do you mean, what we have?" Mara blasted in frustration. "What we have is ten years and one night."

He recognized the defense, and responded not to it, but to what it protected, saying gently, "It's more than that."

"Can you honestly say that whatever you feel for me is remotely like what you felt for Callista?" It was a demand that she would have never made if she had not already been certain of the answer.

"It's totally different. You know that."

"Exactly, so..."

He interrupted, delivering the unwelcome news, "But just because it's different doesn't make it any less important to me. And it's not just my feelings that matter on this, I want to know where you stand."

"Where I always have." Although her too swift response belied other emotions, Luke had to look at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, before Mara finally retreated. "No, I..., well you know how I feel."

Luke moved to stand in front of her, and clasped the lapels of her suit. "We share so much in thought. Sometimes it's like my name. Sometimes I just want to hear it from you."

"I'm getting better about your name," Mara protested.

Luke moved a finger along her collar, agreeing. "Yes, you said it quite a few times last night." Mara ducked her head, blushing furiously. What a novel sight.

He tilted her face up, making her meet his gaze. "Tell me," he demanded. The tension and reluctance oozed from her. Kissing her lightly, he entreated, "Tell me ... please."

Mara trembled with the strain, "I... I like being around you sometimes."

Luke made a soft persistent appeal, tugging her suit front again. "Can't you do better than that?"

The stress made her incoherent. "You're in my mind, I ... I'm used to that. Sometimes it drives me nuts."

"And?" Still resisting, still avoiding, still vacillating, he held her firmly about the waist, blocking the retreat, repeating more assertively, "And?"

As something being torn out of her, with a tremendous act of will, Mara bit out her confession, "You fill a place I never even knew was empty. I'd miss it if you weren't there."

"Now, that wasn't so hard was it?"

She struggled free of him, slipping off the ledge to demand angrily, "So what? I said it, but where does that leave us?"

Luke shrugged and smiled at her, "I don't know, I just wanted to hear that sometimes you'd rather be around me than not."

"And what does that mean, that I drop everything and follow you to Yavin?"

"No, but ..." Now Luke retreated, dropping his eyes to the pebbly ground.

She cut in, smacking the edge for emphasis, irritated with his head hung demeanor. "I hate you there. If I went to Yavin, I really would kill you."

Luke looked up to point out the obvious, "I can't say that Yavin brings out your better qualities either. Or at least the ones that I find the most compelling. But I..." He paused, reluctant to raise it, "I never knew how you felt the first time you came to Yavin. If I had been ..."

"Don't make more of that than there was," she broke in hurriedly. "It wasn't a big deal then, it certainly isn't now. Too much has happened to both of us since then to make anything of it."

He did not know if she truly believed that, and he was unsure if he wanted to hear the answer she had given or another. Luke remained silent, Mara finally awarding him a hard look, and a sharp question, "This morning, you almost said something about 'next time,' and then didn't."

In response to his quiet, "I guess I wasn't sure if there would be," Mara sent an impish thought, meriting a chuckle in reply. Aloud he said, "True, but I was thinking more into the future."

"Have you tried projecting ahead?"

Luke was startled, realizing as she said it that he had thought about looking down that road. "No, of course not, why would I do something like that?"

"I don't know," Mara bristled. "But you can do it and I can't, and maybe you've seen something and don't want to tell me."

"It's hard to project into the future on something like this. We could try to do it together, but I don't think we would see much. And I don't think it's likely to be a very good guide. Besides," Mara caught his passing recollection of what Dona had said.

She began questioning, "If we think we know the future?"

"We abdicate the responsibility for making it."

A heavy silence hung between them. Mara staring at her feet, at last ventured, "So I guess with some things we just have to muddle through it like everybody else." She muttered with irritation, "Billions of people work through it every day, why the hell can't we?"

She began stalking about, movement at least giving them the illusion of headway through the conundrum. She finally spun around to confront him, "So do you want a next time?"

Luke was not going to let her off that easily, "Do you?"

Evasive, stalling, waiting for him to say or do something that he never did, Mara finally made the opening gambit, "Maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe..." Mara drew out the words, hoping that Luke would finish for her. When he did not, she continued, "Maybe this doesn't have to end with the trading run."

"We could think of it as a beginning," Luke suggested carefully.

"But," came Mara's soft challenge, "to what?"

Now Luke banged his back up against the ledge, staring at the ground, unable to ascertain what kind of beginning he even wanted. They were flying blind, into uncharted territory. Every decision was fraught with unknowns, real and imagined pitfalls, and ephemeral, unquantifiable payoffs. Even Mara's instinct for self-preservation was not likely to be of much use taking this risk.

He finally made a shy proposal. "Maybe you could visit Yavin more often, you still have to show me the nightlife."

Catching the real intent, Mara snorted, "We do at the Academy what we did last night, and your trainees will riot."

Luke laughed at the prospect. "I have to think about whether our discovery should be incorporated into the Jedi curriculum."

"I would think," Mara offered brightly, "that a thorough, methodical review of the subject would be necessary before undertaking so important a revision."

He snared her as she paced by, wanting her near. Caressing her upturned face, Luke promised, "I'm sure we can work something out in that regard."

Accepting the offered kiss, Mara then posed another alternative. "Maybe you could fly with me more often. I can always use a co-pilot during my runs, and..." she paused with a glitter, "we can work on split concentration exercises during those long, boring hyperspace jumps."

"Now why would I ever want to go on a jump with you?"

Mara brought his head down to her own, murmuring, "There might be some appropriate compensations."

He finally expressed what had nagged him, "What about when I can't co-pilot, what will you do then?" The question was anything but idle - he was asking obliquely if there would be some token commitment to accompany their link.

Mara sighed, shutting her eyes to the hope she saw in his, saying slowly, "I could probably work something out there, too." Wanting to avoid his wistful "really?" even if she had been gladdened to hear it, Mara gently pulled away from the embrace, and approaching the ledge, noticed for the first time a small box resting there, "What's that?"

Luke shrugged noncommittally, "Something I picked up for you."

She was instantly suspicious, "What is it?"

"Open it and see."

Mara gingerly took the box, feeling its disproportionate weight for its size, and pried the lid off. Inside rested a blaster, and a single, blue coneflower.

Luke explained quietly, "It's your old blaster, I found it in the weapons closet during the jump when I was stowing the gear. This afternoon I had the tech department clean it up, replace the trigger and sight." Mara made no sound, simply staring at the box.

With no reaction from her, Luke hesitated, trying to feel his way through this unknown terrain. "I was worried you'd be mad I messed with your equipment, but ..."

"No, no, I've been meaning to do it for a long time," she whispered softly. "And the flower ..."

As her voice trailed off, he realized with surprise that he had managed to touch some small part of her. "I uhhh just thought you probably didn't get flowers very often. I sort of regretted that I didn't give you that one I took out of Dona's bouquet, but uhhh I guess, I was worried you'd just laugh or ..." He was unable to fathom her reaction, half fearful that she would snicker at the uncharacteristic sentiment.

Mara was very, very still, holding the box in her hands; he noticed that she pointedly avoided looking at him. When she spoke, her voice was full and halting, "I don't know what to say. It's very thoughtful. I, I don't get many gifts, but I don't have anything for you, I ..." She did not finish, ending unsure and hesitant.

A sarcastic response would have at least seemed more natural to him than the intense emotion welling within her and the corresponding embarrassment it elicited from him. After an awkward silence, he finally said, "I'm sure you'll make it up to me one way or another. In so many ways, you already have." They had just edged closer to a line neither would venture over, both simultaneously seeing that there remained many more things still on the list, things neither of them had any experience with, and that some of those things might never be crossed off.

Cradling the precious gift in her hands, Mara backed away from the divide first, to look out over the city stretching before her. She watched as one of the new model X Wings slowly made its lumbering way to dock, eventually observing, "I think we found a better solution to the lateral control problem than R&D did." Her statement was a retreat they both welcomed.

Luke came up next to her. "Too bad we had to leave the tablecloth behind." He hesitated, then slipped an arm around her waist, feeling her first stiffen slightly, then lean into him as they tested the unaccustomed sensation. They watched the ship maneuver and after a time he added, "That's really the question, isn't it?"

Mara already knew what Luke meant, but asked anyway, knowing that, sometimes, things were not real until said. "What?"

"What kind of ship."

In the dimming day, the landing lights shone brighter than all but a few of the emerging stars. "Acquaintance?" Mara suggested.

"Beyond that I think. Friend at least."

Emboldened, Mara tentatively brushed against a razor's line, using the "r" word softly, "Relation?"

"Something in between," Luke mused aloud, "or beyond?"

"I guess we have to design our own, don't we?"

ooOOoo

**EPILOGUE **

The explosive conclusion to the "Showdown at Centerpoint Station" episode of Tales of the Jedi duly aired, first on Coruscant and then throughout the remainder of the galaxy. To the shock of billions of fans, "Duke" and "Tara" decided their destiny, and leatherwear notwithstanding, opted to maintain a platonic friendship. Loyal fans might have accepted this disappointing fate but for an important twist of divine justice.

In the subsequent action before the Trader Tribunal, Jade vs. KJ Bant Lusson and Jedi Productions, it was revealed during the discovery phase of the proceeding that the producer, KJ Bant Lusson had never in fact intended for Duke and Tara's relationship to become more intimate. Indeed, numerous memoranda subsequently leaked to system wide bulletin boards and nets detailed a complex marketing scheme designed, not for the long term happiness of Duke and Tara, but to assure a steady lucrative credit stream to the producer. In a calculated business decision, it had been determined that fans would be more likely to tune in if they were continually led to believe that the next episode would truly be the one in which Duke and Tara decided their appropriate destiny. Moreover, whether for reasons of lucre or sentiment, it was also revealed that KJ Bant Lusson did not wish such connubial bliss on his superhero, believing that although not celibate, neither should Duke find true, enduring, reciprocated love.

Outrage over the behavior of Jedi Productions and KJ Bant Lusson was intense. Disgruntled fans on dozens of worlds stormed their local vid broadcasting studios. A sit-in at the Jedi Production headquarters persisted for six months, before the protesters became tired of the cafeteria food and departed.

In a further blow to Jedi Productions, it was also discovered that the 900 holonet number scheme had been intended not to garner fan views, but was simply another method by which "Showdown at Centerpoint Station" became the most watched and profitable holovid in the history of the galaxy. Profits from product tie-ins and novel serializations paled in comparison to the billions raked in from trusting fans who had sincerely believed that their views were instrumental to deciding the destiny of Duke and Tara. The furor increased when it was learned that over 50% of the calls had been initiated by children under the age of twelve, resulting in unexpected holonet bills conservatively estimated in the trillion credit range.

The fraud led to a call, championed by the Chief of State, for tighter regulation of the 900 number industry. Although some responded that this was merely another example of an overreaching government once again getting on the backs of private businesses, the fervent belief that children, and more importantly, their voting parents' purses, had been injured by the false, deceptive and unfair trade practice silenced most critics.

Luke and Mara joined Han and Leia to watch the "Showdown at Centerpoint Station" episode. The children had been trundled off to an evening of alternative, more appropriate entertainment, promised that they would be able to watch the episode the following day, but only after their parents had availed themselves of the V and S chip option on the vid. The Jedi introduced the Chief of State and General Solo to the Tales of the Jedi drinking game.

Lando Calrissian made out fairly well on the episode wagering, having hedged his bets in both directions and guaranteed a tidy return regardless of the outcome. With Mara's assistance, Han sold a bottle of rare Alderaani cavernol to Calrissian for the bargain price of 10,535 credits. The proceeds barely covered the Solos' holonet bill.

Mara ultimately prevailed in her suit against the producer, KJ Bant Lusson. She donated the entire proceeds to the Tirgu Muresh Enterprise Fund, an organization she founded with the Remschi family to encourage the development of the local Verratan economy. The Verratans are still talking eloquently about what they will do with all that money.

Knowledge of the fraud perpetrated by the Verratan Imperials and the Bacchanalia Trading Company SRL eventually percolated throughout the ranks of that closed society. The would-be Emperor, his commanders, and their extensive hardware dissolved into the vastness of the galaxy, their setback, no one doubted, only temporary.

Witten Borkin and Dazern Kyle married. Borkin remained ensconced at the NRI, moving slowly up the promotional ladder in its civil service ranks. His career became a testament to the principle that a person is inevitably promoted to the level at which he can no longer competently perform a task. Dazern became a successful designer of women's evening wear - her creations were unique and very popular, designed specifically to allow for concealed weaponry. Mara Jade was only one of her more notable and loyal customers.

Luke returned to Yavin IV and with some of the proceeds of his trading in Tirgu Muresh, installed a wine cellar in one of the unused temples. He became noted and respected wine critic, and his occasional "Skywalker Recommends" columns in the galactic press were always much anticipated and well received among experts.

At first Mara did make regular visits to Yavin. Two events, however, mandated a change in the routine after several months. Master Skywalker learned just how eagerly the Yavin community awaited Mara's arrival and that the Jedi would invariably make a discrete rush to the infirmary for appropriate precautionary supplies whenever the Jade's Fire dropped out of hyperspace. Luke might have tolerated this breach of discipline, but for the events of one evening, when, as a result of certain intense movements within the Force, a herd of normally placid grazing ruminants stampeded through the Massassi Temple. To the regret of the Yavin IV denizens, thereafter, Mara and the Jade's Fire remained in orbit.

Many years later, a sociologist at the Coruscant University, studying the rituals of human dating behavior, began cataloging the origins and vernacular of cantina pick-up lines. To the researcher's amazement, the popular line "Hey baby, let's go into orbit," appeared to have originated at the Jedi Academy on Yavin IV. None of the Jedi interviewed were willing or able to offer an explanation for the phrase.

Because Mara professes every intention of collecting her 22.5% commission and Luke avers an interest in respectability, they venture out of orbit periodically on longer sojourns, whether to search for respectable women, or on trading runs or for secretive NRI business. They haggle constantly about the rates, terms, and options of the finder's fee arrangement. To the very observant, the entire argument has appeared rather academic - it may seem that perhaps, Mara has not been looking all that hard, and that when she occasionally finds some respectable, invariably not all that attractive of a prospect, Luke has always been too busy to meet her. And they keep meaning to post that lonely heart advertisement, but somehow, never seem able to agree on the appropriate wording.

**THE END**

* * *

**ENDNOTES**

_Old notes from 1997_: No, they aren't in love. No, that box on the roof was never intended to contain an engagement ring. I've actually made several revisions over the years to make that really clear. They are too damaged for love at this stage. In my personal universe, they never marry either. Mara is not pregnant. Thanks to Jeff, Dunc, and everyone else. Immense gratitude and a bottomless bottle always to my co-conspirators.

_New notes from 2013_: Thanks to old readers who rediscovered the fic and new readers who found it for the first time. I hope you'll read and review and I so appreciate the follows, reviews, and favs. My other work is under the name rthstewart, both here and on AO3. Thank you again.


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